Dragonfire
by Prepare For The Noble War
Summary: AU where everyone lives. Erebor has been reclaimed and is flourishing. In it, one sharp tongued and passionately moral half-blood finds herself trapped under the gaze of the Durins, all in different ways. After her once horrid life changes for the very best, she finds herself growing closer to the lot of them in just as many ways. She definitely isn't used to this kind of life.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

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><p>In the first passing months of the return of dwarves to Erebor, life seemed a struggle. None that any good dwarf or dwarrowdam could not handle, mind you, but there was much to rebuild and more to clean. There were occasional rock falls above their heads and pesky small animals to shoo away. Some danger befell those who had to slip through the gold of the treasury to pack chests slowly, and those who must climb inside still warm forges to make sure they worked before relighting them, but there were more grateful and willing people than any other land.<p>

It was also a sight to see when it was only the newly formed king's guard and the Company of Thorin who reclaimed Erebor who truly tidied the treasury. People would go and watch in hopes to sometimes glimpse the king himself, who'd sometimes come assist his friends or speak to them in quiet tones. Any man cleaning up that treasure was suddenly the most attractive man in all of Erebor, the Iron Hills, and the Blue Mountains put together.

Others, like Azel, had to pass this mob scene to live and did not care for the sight. She walked up into the massive treasury from the forges and needed to cross and go higher into the mountain to get to the small stone quarters of her home.

Nobody moved for her, nor should they. She was lower class, orphaned when she only had a mother to begin with, and half-breed to boot. Her friends were numbered, counted off on one hand with spare room, and while most weren't outwardly rude if they knew of her, they certainly didn't care to shift out of her way in the crowds.

The people were exceptionally thick today, which made hr frown. With no real choice, Azel looked out over the gold piles to see who was of interest – the king, his princes, or the rest of the company.

As her eyes scanned the piles, she heard a twinkling of gold coins cascading down, making her eyes snap to where everyone else was looking. Three dwarves were trying to move down the mounds, towards a little dwarfling. A little boy had somehow made his way down the tiers.

"How did he get down there?" One of the men on the piles called out. "Every step we take sends coin flying!"

"Hul! Come back up here to mommy!" A frightful dwarrowdam shouted.

Azel watched as two of the dwarves tried to move forward again, but their heavy booted feet made the mounds move, sending goblets and coins trickling away. The difference was obvious to her. The child had light feet.

There was no adult dwarf with such a trait.

Heart pumping, she threw off her heavy coats to be left in her light mining trousers and sleeveless tunic. Then, Azel kicked off her boots. She was the only lightfoot she knew, thanks to a father who was not dwarvish.

People watched in shock as she went out onto the piles of gold with her bare feet. She hoisted herself over the barrier to the lower levels once she got far enough in, sliding down the coin hillside but barely causing anything to move. The ones she touched did cascade, but only a foot or three like a short moving river. Slowing near the bottom, she pushed herself upright and balanced on the coin.

As she got to the right of the child, she noticed that there wasn't more than fifteen feet to the drop off. Her stomach was churning, but she took careful steps towards him. "Hey." She said gently.

He shifted his little body, hands by his mouth as he bashfully smiled at her. "Hi."

"It's Hul, right?" She asked gently, having remembered the mothers call. He gave a nod. "Your mother wants you, you know. Why don't you let me take you to her?"

"Shield!" He said too cheerfully, pointing the way that he'd been sloppily walking.

It was just a platter imbedded in the coin vertically, holding back piles. "We can get you a shield when you're with your mother." She stepped closer to him, putting her hand out to grab him.

"I want that one!" He disagreed excitedly, jogging off to get it.

"No!" Azel shouted and ran after him. She got to him a moment too late as he dislodged the platter wedged between treasure.

As coin began to slip away from underneath, the entire mountain of coin began to shift as though something were coming to life under it. Azel grabbed the boy in her arms, the platter bouncing down from his hands and hurling off the cliffside. She didn't know what else to do as she felt the coin behind her legs begin to push against her, so she sat down heavily with her back to the landslide and held Hul safely in a cage of her arms.

It hit full force, the cacophonous noise drowning out anything people may have been shouting, coin hurtling against her back and over her head like a wave. The child in her arms started to get antsy and afraid, but she had a vice-like grip on him to keep him from endangering himself further.

It got to heavy on her back and she felt them began to slide forward. Azel made a split second decision. She pushed up out of the coins and turned, thankful of the dwarves that had been trying to rescue the child being somewhat close. As she tossed Hul towards one of them, she only stayed vertical long enough to see the kid caught before she was washed away off the edge of the chasm.

With only luck and a little strength did she manage to grab the edge of the cliff, the coin there unmoving as treasure piled over it, giving her enough space to not be pummelled by precious metal. Now, she could hear the screaming over the coin. Azel didn't hear a word, though, just the pitch, trying to save herself. Traversing over the sharp and rough rock, she made herself move out of the onslaught of gold, her body not registering in the moment that her feet were being cut by improper footholds and her left hand had caught a knife on the ledge that someone forged.

She found a space large enough to pull herself up just as the sound of coin-fall was lessening. There was shouting and cheer for a moment, before the avalanche stopped and she started walking back up the piles. Then, silence. Absolutely not a sound was made as she left her bloody footprints on the coin. They probably realized who they were cheering for – a lowlife like her.

Azel was unphased. She ignored as two dwarves came to help her up onto the higher level, shrugging them off, following the path cleared back to her things. With her bleeding hand, she picked up her boot, the other swiping up her heavy coats. She walked off, leaving deep red pooling footprints as she did.

King Thorin and his entire company had witnessed. It'd even been his nephews who'd tried to help the woman, not that'd she'd noticed or cared. As she cleared the room, Thorin's rage caught up with him after the shock of the incident.

"This gold has caused our people enough trouble these months!" He decreed for all to hear. Over the months, chest after chest of coin and jewels were saved in another place, more than enough, so he had little care for what was left. "I will have any volunteers to clear it! Chests may remain, and those willing to help may fill their pockets and purses, but the rest goes over the cliffside!"

As the people erupted in chatter and whispers, some beginning to prod at the treasure while others left to spread the news, Thorin turned to his friends. "Does anyone know that woman?" He asked towards Balin.

"No, I can't say that we do." And nobody contradicted the white haired dwarf.

"We can find out." Fili claimed, volunteering himself and his brother. Thorin gave a nod, so they walked off to do just that, asking the lingering crowds.

Back in her home, Azel sat in a dusty arm chair and had her feet in a bowl of warm water, washing them and her hand. As she wrapped her hand, there was a knock on her thick iron-enforced wooden doors. In no place to get up, she called "Come in!"

Two plump, lightly bearded woman came in. Her dear friends Cecla and Miwren. "Azel! We heard what happened." Cecla worried over her, sitting on the unused ottoman by her knees.

"The king is in an uproar. He has everyone pushing the gold right off the cliff." Miwren pulled over a chair, taking the wrappings from Azel's hands to do the job right. Thankfully, because Azel was having so much trouble wrapping her own hand that the bandages were loose and twisted.

"And the princes were asking about you." Cecla spoke in a much more serious tone. "They want to know who you are. We didn't know what to say when they came up to us, so we just ran off."

That made the injured girl shake her head. "You two are being ridiculous. Are the royals all you're going to talk about?" She used.

"No!" Cecla claimed. "You almost died! What were you thinking?"

"The boy would have died, Cecla." Azel reminded her. "I'm the only lightfoot in Erebor. Nobody else would have made it!"

Miwren also seemed slightly disagreeing. "Well, you're also smarter than all in Erebor. Couldn't you suggest tossing a rope?"

Azel knew it was just their friendship that had them bartering off a boy's life even when all turned out fine, so she didn't fight it. "Yes, I could have, if I'd thought of it. Maybe you're the smartest dwarrowdam in Erebor, Miwren." She said, wincing as the woman tied off her bandage tightly.

"Well, it's only a matter of time before the princes find your name." Miwren said. "I don't know what you have to speak for, but they were asking everyone. Half of the Blue Mountains know you and they may already have your name."

"Half the Blue Mountains know me as the bastard smelter." Azel reminded them. "That does not mean they know my name. And I am not worried. If I did something wrong, they can shove it right up their–"

"Azel! That's the royal family you speak ill of." Cecla cut her off. She grabbed the spare cloth and ripped more wrappings. "Now, feet, little miss."

With jealousy at their skill, Azel let her friends take care of her sore and cut feet, an amused smile on her face. "And what of the treasury?" She asked as she thought of it.

"They've collected hundreds of chests these months, so surely they moved them to a new treasury." Cecla answered. "I hear that the space will now be turned into a larger open market. A rail will be erected thanks to you, I'm sure."

"Then my near death has done dome good. The market now is drudgery to go through."

"Don't joke." Cecla gave her a sharp look. Azel just smiled.

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><p>It did take a stretch of time to find the name of the woman who saved the little boy. Two days, in fact. People knew of her and had words to say. Such as her parentage, her silent attitude, with the clashing opinion from some that she was a great woman even if only half dwarrowdam, and that she worked down at the furnaces, sticking her arm into them to move coals. That it was all she was good for with her skinny arms.<p>

When Fili and Kili went to the furnaces to find her, she was not working but they did finally catch her name and which quarter she lived in. With that, they were able to go to Thorin. Everyone's homes were assigned and written down when there were enough tidied and furnished to move into. It was easy to notice that she was amongst the least well-to-do dwarves in the entire kingdom.

A knock sounded on her door not four hours after they knew of her place. Not that Azel knew what the meaning of the knock was. She'd not gone down to the furnaces during the following days because her feet would twinge with pain at every step and her cut hand would be a bother as well as slightly dangerous to try and work with. She moved from her stew at the table by the hearth and opened it, thinking it'd be a friend. Instead there were two guards holding a small chest.

"Miss Azel. This king sends his regards as well as this small prize for your good deeds." One of the dwarves spoke with shocking formality despite an accent thick as Lord Dain's.

Offense bubbled up in her. "I don't want it. Take it back." She said, beginning to close her doors.

A heavy boot stopped her. "It is gold, my Lady. There's no merit in refusing some wealth."

"I didn't earn it." She opposed.

The second guard said, "King Thorin witnessed you save the child and believes you deserve a prize. It didn't need to be earned."

Taking matters into her own hands as they refused to take it back, she let her irritation drive her. Taking the chest, she pushed past the guards and started down the hall. Azel was strong willed. She sometimes was too opinionated and acted in odd ways due to impulses that did not go away. If she were to stop and think even five minutes, she'd know it was a bad idea.

But she didn't stop. She went through the Gallery of the Kings and out to the main hall where the throne of Thorin sat. Taking no notice that he had a nephew at either elbow, talking to them, Azel stormed up the stairs to the right of him, cracking open the chest.

In a swift motion she'd lifted it, pouring the gold coins out onto Thorin's lap, and then tossed the chest away. As she turned to storm away, the sound of gold falling from the lap of the enraged king gave away that he was standing.

"What is the meaning of this?" He bellowed, any and all dwarves in the hall turning to see, including Azel. Coins littered the throne and the steps.

She didn't feel guilt, just snapping out, "A prize is for pompous champions in a fool's game, not for those who have a little _tact_." The fire in his eyes was matched in her own.

Despite wearing breeches and boots rather than a dwarrowdam's dress and shoes, she mimed a curtsy. "My King." She said slightly bitter, dismissing herself.

Not a word was said in the hall. Thorin watched her go and didn't feel shamed. It was a bold act, but it showed he had subjects that cared for more than money, and that while he'd been generous she was bold enough to refuse it, even if her methods were sharp and troubled.

"Uncle." Fili said as Thorin calmly sat back down. "Would you not see her in irons?"

"Whatever for?" He asked, ignoring the pressure of the few coins lingering on his seat. "It was rude, but you will learn to take pride in people like her."

"How so?" Kili asked, appalled. "She just threw your gold back in your face, in front of others."

"So I should be embarrassed that she refused a reward for saving a child out of her own good will?" He questioned, making them see his point. "Many will cause scenes, but that is a scene I can handle. Besides, I will still reward her."

That made Fili lift a brow at the man. "I don't think you will get another chance. She clearly has a temper."

"Easily. Raise her wages for a time. She may not even notice."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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><p>There were small festivities almost bi-monthly in the wealthy Erebor. The people were allowed their joy, many of the folk from this very kingdom in the old days, or growing up on stories of it. Some were requested by the people, asking politely if they may use a hall and have a party, coming up with clever ways to make it sound like a good idea. Others, the king held for his people out of gladness and, once, an actual holiday.<p>

Today would be the birthday of his sister, the Lady Dis. Those who remembered the days of old Erebor remembered how enthralled the Durin-kin were to have a daughter amongst their names, therefore there was always a party for the people. It was just a feast with much dancing that all of the kingdom would attend. Gifts only came from dear friends and nobles it may be expected from, but the new Erebor had yet to choose the nobles that would create the court.

Azel had only heard stories of this, and that the higher ranking dwarves often left Dis laden with lovely things. Without a court, she figured there'd be little that the woman would get.

She'd met Dis, once. It was in the Blue Mountains many decades ago, at the seamstress. Azel remembered the woman's kind remarks at the coat Azel had commissioned and ultimately designed, though not made. It was one of the first times a kind word was spoken to her since her mother had died six winters before, and Dis had been someone with a well-known name, so it felt like more than just common courtesy.

So now, Azel wanted to get the Lady a gift.

Plus, she felt a bit like she was standing on thin ice after what she'd done with the gold that still littered the steps of the throne room four days later.

Walking into the Hall of the Kings, where this was the first party held there probably due to its golden floor (only the best for Lady Dis), was like walking into a land of elves for Azel. The dwarves were all strong and bearded, dressed in their best, the dwarrowdams beautifully robust and in festive gowns with their hair in curls and braids. Azel was too thin, hairless on her face, and had straight hair left mostly short due to an incident with a fire almost a year ago. All she could manage was two chest length braids in the front, one thicker than the other.

She'd give anything to look like the dwarrowdams. Like Cecla and Miwren. But she didn't, so she hardly tried to dress like them, looking horribly odd in their thick gowns. She wore a decent _human _surcoat hemmed for her short height, but under were her usual pants and tunic. Plus the only colour she could afford was a strong orange. Not that there weren't other people brightly coloured dancing around.

The difference was, Azel wasn't staying for the festivities, as wonderful as they could be. She even waited until the majority of the feast would end to go, hearing the loud music and cheer from three halls away. With a small box wrapped in the nicest cloth and twine she could find so quickly under her arm, Azel looked briefly for the woman, wondering how she'd get the present to her.

Now was certainly not the moment. Lady Dis was dancing cheerfully with her brother, the king. They were quite the scene, even with Thorin's stoic expression.

Azel did lay eyes on the two brothers, though. Maybe she'd seem stupid to walk up to them, but she did despite the nervous fluttering in her heart. The princes were talking with each other, the older with arms crossed, the second eating a pastry.

"Your highnesses." She addressed, not having a clue what else to say. They both looked at her, Kili chewing a mouthful.

"Fili, and Kili, at your service." Fili lowered his head, addressing her.

If they recognized her, they certainly didn't let it show. "Would you give this to your mother?" She asked, holding up the gift.

"What for?" Fili asked, stepping to face her while taking the gift.

"It's her birthday." Azel reminded him blandly.

"Yes, and this would make you the only one outside of family to bother to gift her anything." He countered, looking at her calculatingly.

She just stepped back, hands behind her back now that they were empty. "You don't need to tell her who it's from. She'd be none the wiser."

"Then how would she thank you?"

Azel shook her head. "This is me thanking her." She did not explain, giving a small curtsy before turning and leaving the hall once again.

Kili and Fili shared a look. "Do we tell her?" Kili asked.

"I'd fear that if our mother ever did anything for that woman, she'd not remember. Save her the embarrassment?" Fili offered.

"Sounds fair." Kili agreed.

They made way to the high table as Thorin escorted Dis back to her seat. Fili went to her side, placing the present in front of her.

"Oh, what's this?" She asked cheekily. "I know you two wouldn't have the charm to surprise me with a second gift."

"How funny." Kili said sarcastically, grinning at her. "It's not from us."

"A woman asked us to give it to you as a token of thanks, we know not what for." Fili said simply.

Dis was beaming as she ran her hands over the earthy blue fabric. "Beautiful cloth, as well." She murmured.

Thorin, Kili, and Fili watched in curiosity as she opened the present. Dis saw before them as she opened it, a small gasp coming from her. She took it out in cheer. Tied around a small round of wood to display it was a necklace. A simple leather cord with a pendant. It was a flat red jasper stone, a perfect oval and polished like a precious gem, with patterns of pearlescent white paint creating a simple swirling design.

"How beautiful!" Dis claimed, smoothing her fingers over it.

"Allow me." Thorin took it, tying it around her neck.

"Who is this from?" Dis asked, looking to her sons. "I'm not sure what I've done to earn such a lovely thank you."

They looked at each other. "We didn't get a name." Kili lied.

Whatever this token was for, Fili didn't trust it.

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><p>The only thing hotter than the inside of a furnace was dragon fire itself. Wearing one thick glove that fell only three inches higher than her wrist, it was Azel's job to shift heavy coals and sometimes repair these things, which were so rarely turned off. The heat of reaching in seared her skin but not truly burned. It'd hurt some and leave her olive skin bright red, but that would fade by the end of the day and she'd do it again tomorrow. It only took ten minutes of this work to leave her sweating, so she was never the neatest of dwarves or dwarrowdams, especially when half the job was to lie on the ground while she did it.<p>

This was where Fili found her, two days after the birthday of his mother. He didn't ask or tell a sole what he was doing, but he had his suspicions. With how the woman acted in front of the king, then turn around completely to give his mother a gift he knew not for? It was odd and settled in such a way that he was not ignoring it.

When he found the furnace she was working on, her arm was in a hatch maybe one foot by one foot, seated on the ground with one leg out and the other bent, knee in the air. She was huffing and holding her weight with her other gloved hand on the side of the hot contraption. The air from even twenty feet away was rippling with heat as he neared, so he could not imagine spending an entire day practically inside one.

"Lady Azel, a word." He said, announcing himself.

She scoffed, not looking back. "Not a lady." She retorted.

Definitely not dressed as one, he thought. She wore a sleeveless tunic that was so thin it wasn't hard to find her body in it, as well as dark tan breeches that were loose and hanging on her hips by a drawstring. She may be horribly thin for a dwarrowdam, but she did have some curve to her hips, in the least.

Fili however only watched the side of her face. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you should know that whatever your plot was with confronting the king, it's done nothing." He began.

She looked back at him, stilling but not removing her arm. "No offense, Prince, but don't be daft. I had no plot – I was just annoyed." She turned back to her work, looking into the hatch. "We all have our pet peeves."

"As much as I'm sure you want me to believe that, I won't be so quick. Either way, King Thorin remains unoffended, which makes your gift to my mother unnecessary." He added, shifting his weight.

"My gift?" She screeched. "The two aren't connected, and it wasn't a _bribe_!"

Fili lifted a brow. "Then what do you claim it to be? What were you _thanking_ her for?"

"Listen, Prince Paranoia," She began. "My mother used to tell me how the people of the court would bring gifts for the line of Durin on their birthdays, and we have no court. I owed her," She paused to grunt, throwing a flaming coal from this side of the furnace towards the middle, though he could not see, "So I gave her a gift."

"What did you owe her for? She remembers no grand deeds to warrant jewellery."

Azel didn't look at him, but turned her head slightly, her expression slightly unhappy. "It was decades ago. And she was simply kind when nobody else was. You're questioning a gift I gave because your mother was kind, or is that too hard to believe? Would you insult her in such a way, like you seem to be insulting me?" She snapped.

"I meant no insult. There just seems to be–"

"Look, can't you just leave me alone?" Azel barked out, pushing herself away from the furnace while looking at him.

It happened in a flash not even a second after she'd shouted at him. Her arm just pressed so momentarily into the top of the furnace's open hatch, scorching hot. Azel let out an agonizing scream, pulling her arm from the stone and clutching her elbow just below the burn.

Fili startled as she fell onto the ground, her entire upper arm a bloody red and the skin instantly raising in one massive welt. It should have been worse, so she must have only brushed against the heat of the furnace, but that was not his first thought. His first thought was absolute panic as she screamed out.

Then he picked her up urgently, not knowing what else to do. "Out of the way!" He shouted at the dwarves that had gathered around at her cry. They parted and he ran, as fast and hard as he could, searching for the medic.

When he got there, two healers took her and laid her out. Azel was just shaking, clutching her arm, but not crying or screaming. Fili stared on in shock and sudden guilt. He'd done this. It was his fault. She was only hurt because he'd pestered her for no true reason and drew her attention away.

An apology died on his tongue as a healer waved her hands at him. "Get out! Out! You're in the way!"

He stepped out, then just stood on the other side of the door in shock.

* * *

><p>Cecla and Miwren would not leave Azel's side. She loved them deeply for caring for her while she was left with only her left arm, but there was a point where she just wanted to be alone. Not that she'd voice it, not while her two best friends were cooking and tidying for her, telling her all the best stories of what has been happening around Erebor the past day.<p>

Just the past day, because Azel had only just disappeared into recovery after her burn yesterday morning. There was pound after pound of salve put onto her arm, constant cold wet cloths wrapped around it as her arm sat in a sling, but nothing stopped it from searing like a dragon had a constant hold on her bicep. She pretended it didn't hurt, but she could still feel the burn as if she were still pressed against the furnace.

"The old treasury has finally been cleared, and King Thorin heard rumours of people wanting the market there and said it was a great idea, so by a few months' time, we'll be shopping in the new market." Cecla grinned, just wringing out a cloth to hand Azel. She took it and tucked it around her own arm, the pain of the touch so sudden and sharp she almost gagged on it. Her friends acted like they didn't see her face change. "But first, they are putting up a rail. A beautiful stone one – they've asked that Ori fellow to draw up a design for the chisellers."

"Great." Azel said in disinterest.

Miwren changed the course of the gossip. "You know, Porge is getting thicker." She said about a dwarrowdam that had been quite horrible to many. "Mostly in the neck. She'll never marry with that neck."

"How will she wear any jewellery?" Cecla teased with her.

The two laughed warmly from their seats around Azel, who was sunk into her arms chair, feet tucked under her, covered in a blanket and a fur over her unharmed shoulder. The only parts of her visible were her head and injured forearm, shoulder in-between as well.

Again, they noticed Azel's disinterest. Cecla perked up. "I heard that there's going to be a jubilee in Dale soon. We could go? Or just shop around, if you'd like."

Azel gave a short nod. "Yeah, that sounds great." She agreed.

Even before they could talk about planning this little venture, there was a knock on the door. Miwren popped up, smoothing her skirt. "I'll get it." She smiled and went to the door.

The red haired dwarrowdam opened it, then stood there uselessly and uncharacteristically quiet. A low male voice asked, "Is this where Lady Azel lives?"

"Um, yes!" Miwren blurted, loudly. "We were just leaving. Cecla, come." She urged Cecla, making Azel try to see who was at the door. Cecla moved quickly to follow Miwren. "You can come in."

As her two friends went out, in walked a blonde dwarf, closing the door behind him. Azel frowned and looked away when she recognized him. In no way did she acknowledge him, not with a word, a look, or a gesture any larger than sinking further into her seat.

Fili took a few steps in before seeing how unwanted he seemed to be, stopping to stand far from her arm chair. "I came to apologize. You would have never gotten hurt if I had kept my silly suspicions to myself."

She uncovered herself from the blanket, getting up with the fur still on her other shoulder. Getting up, she strode past him and opened the door again. "Great, thanks, now you can get out." She said insincerely.

Troubled, Fili turned to face her but did not move to go. "I truly never meant you insult, and certainly not harm. I am sorry, and I've never meant that so sincerely. It was wrong of me."

"Yes, it was. I'd forgive you but you did more than make me burn myself." She bit, letting the door close when it seemed he was going nowhere. "I haven't any _clue_ what I'm meant to do now. Do you know just how hard it is to find a job that pays as well as mine at the furnaces?"

He looked at her with less apology, confused. "I don't know what you mean. I spoke to the healers and they said in three or four weeks you'd be fine. The scar'd lessen, even. Surely you can go back to work."

"You _idiot_." She sighed, realizing just how ill-informed he was. There was a prickling behind her eyes, chest thick, but she wouldn't cry. "You have no clue what happens when someone working the furnaces and forges gets hurt, do you? It's dangerous! Which is why one accident and you're gone! I have _no_ job!"

The comprehension was clear on his face in the following seconds. "I hadn't known. My lady, I'm beyond sorry."

"Stop calling me lady and just get out, okay?" She sounded deflated even to her own ears, using her left hand to right the wet cloth that was slipping from her burn. "I'm tired and I'm in pain and I haven't been alone all day, so please, get out."

Fili just watched her a moment as she walked back across the room, grabbing the fallen blanket before going into the back bedroom. Then, feeling inappropriate for lingering, he let himself out.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I forgot to put this note on the first chapter! The names; **Azel** is pronounced like _Hazel_ without the H. **Miwren** is odd but when I say it the way I like it it's a little "me-oo-ren" but fast. **Cecla** is my favourite and pronounced Kes-luh.

To some reviewers saying that Azel is almost too hateful or sharp, it's just that she has a strong personality that slowly lessens from hating every handout to something meaningful. You will see her develop quite a bit. Also, thank you for reviews! (This chapter has more interaction between other people and also Kili. Some of you asked about him.)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

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><p>Azel's arm was still in a sling but she managed to slap a smile on her face in earnest two weeks after the incident. They would not make the upcoming jubilee, but the three dwarrowdams decided to go into the rebuilt civilization of Man to see their markets. In a short time, it'd began to prosper with goods coming in that the people had not seen due to the Master of Lake-Town's green. There were always dwarves venturing to the city, and if one squinted a handful of elves could be found alongside the people.<p>

"I'm glad Dale was rebuilt." Miwren was telling Azel and Cecla. "It's nothing like the Blue Mountains here. It was days to any non-dwarvish settlement. I love to see the different people."

"Plus they have so many different things." Cecla agreed, the girls passing a stall with chemises and fichus you would not find in dwarf markets.

"And some not so different." Azel remarked, looking ahead.

In the market square with all the children was one of the king's company. Everyone in Erebor knew each one of their names. This was Bofur, the toy maker, showing off his little carved trinkets and inventions to the excitable kids. Azel remembered him doing as such in the Blue Mountains.

There was a little 'ah' from between herself and Miwren. They both looked to Cecla, a blush alighting her face. The reaction was news to them, sharing a look behind their friend's back.

"You know," Azel commented softly. "Bofur's not a bad looking dwarf, don't you think?"

"No, not at all." Miwren caught on, watching the toymaker thrill a few children with a rocking horse and a spinning top. "What do you think, Cecla?"

Their friend went rigid before turning up her nose and walking off. "I do not know what you're talking about."

Miwren nudged Azel. "She could do worse." She whispered, the two following their friend slowly.

"He couldn't do better." Azel countered, meaning it truly. Her friends were beautiful and kind dwarrowdams with no slowing in the dwarves who asked to court them throughout the years. "She can cook, she sews, she _loves_ children."

"Maybe we should tell him this." Miwren nodded towards Bofur as they passed him completely.

"Bah, and face the wrath of Cecla?" She decided against it, looking around. "I'm going to go back for those quills I wanted. I'll catch up with you at the bakery?"

Her friend turned to her. "I thought that they were too expensive."

"They still are, but I want them no less."

She shrugged and Azel waved her off before turning. She went alone back up the hill and to the stall she saw the fine feathers in. They were a gorgeous tan and long, from some large bird. Buying two, she looked around her as the stall owner wrapped them carefully to avoid being hurt in transport. There was an alley near, and perhaps a shortcut to the bakery below. After taking her quills, she stuck them in her burlap sack and went for the alley.

It led to a small court of residences, with another path out to the market. She stepped to the next path and saw two figures in it. At first glance, it was a sweet couple brushing fingers, so she turned her eye away and went to pass them as quietly as possible.

Then, a voice from one of them spoke in alarm, "My Lady!"

Reflexively, she said, "I'm not a lady," in a polite tone, looking up. The two that were interrupted by her was an elf maiden and a dwarf prince. Specifically, Kili.

Azel blinked at the shock on his face. "Ah, um…" He stumbled for words, looking between the women, elf and half-breed alike. "Lady Tauriel, this is La- um, Miss Azel of Erebor."

"Pleasure." Azel smiled up at her, inwardly wondering if the king knew of this, or if he cared for elves at all. Then she looked to Kili. "But it's not a total pleasure to talk to you. If you stopped me to bother me about the idiot Prince–"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean to stop you. I was just surprised to see you out, with your arm." Three or four words too many, she thought.

But Tauriel save Kili a glare. "May I ask what happened to your arm?"

She could not, rudely, glare at the newly met elf. "I burned it in the furnaces meant for melting gold."

"_In_ the furnace?" She gasped.

"While pulling it out, technically. The door I hit may luckily have been just cooler." She spoke in a calm that surprised even her. "I am fine, physically. It shan't even scar longer than a couple years."

"You sound lucky to have an arm."

Not wanting to speak any more of it, she just gave a small shrug. "I'll leave you two, since my Prince had not meant to stop me." She spoke formally, nodding her regards.

"Wait, Miss Azel." Kili stopped her before she turned. His expression was worrisome. "I'd beg you not to mention this to anyone. There are very few who know…"

"I saw nothing." She said firmly, then looked up to the elf. "Though I must wish you the best of luck, at the very least, to put up with the Prince."

Tauriel gave a warm smile and soft laugh before Azel turned. As she stepped past them, Kili called, "And my brother is very sorry!"

She stiffened and whipped her head around to give him a sharp glare over her shoulder. A bit peeved, she stomped off to find her friends.

Miwren waved her over, sitting on a stone wall next to the bakery with Cecla. They'd gotten her one of her favourite pastries, waiting for her to eat. For another hour or two they lingered in Dale, watching the people and exploring the booths a bit more. Once, she'd glimpsed Tauriel again, slipping through the people, amongst the tallest. When walking back to Erebor in her small group, she glanced over her shoulder to also find Prince Kili walked thirty paces back, kicking a stone.

It made her think of other things. "Cecla, will you not tell us if you like someone?" She poked with a pout.

Her friend's chubby cheeks went an incredible shade of red. "Not when it is impossible, no."

"Today, I have seen a dwarf and an elf holding hands." Technically she spoke no names or titles. They'd never know. "Anything is possible."

"But not this." Cecla waned. "The man is generous and brave, and yet so kind and clever. Bofur is miles away when possible suitors are considered plausible."

Miwren held Cecla caringly. "If you do not speak to him, you will never know."

"But I do know. He is a better dwarf than I. All I can do is cook. I'm just yet another cook amongst endless cooks." She claimed. "He is a toy maker! He can do things, create things, and brings joy to people. All I can do is fill you up."

"Cecla, you are a fantastic woman, in many more ways than feeding someone." Azel promised. "If you gave yourself but a chance, you'd know it."

They comforted Cecla the rest of the way to Erebor, having slowed enough that Kili nearly passed them just inside the halls.

Noticing that he had been walking behind Azel the entire way, he figured that certainly Fili would be interested. He found his brother at home, sharpening his sword.

"I saw Miss Azel at the market in Dale today." He started right in the door.

Fili did look interested, but then his expression turned. "What were you doing in Dale?" He questioned. Kili said nothing, which spoke volumes. "You cannot be serious, brother. You know what Thorin thinks of it!"

"But I am not the heir to the throne! What should my affairs have to do with his or your crown?" Kili complained.

Sympathy was on the blonde's face. "I know, and I would see things the other way, but it's not my time to decide." He swore to him. "I won't say more. Now, what of Azel?"

"Just that she was there with two dwarrowdams." Kili went on, moving to sit near his brother and take off his boots. "She looked well, but is sour on you. I believe her words were 'idiot prince'."

"Aye, I feel like one. A fool." He muttered, laying down his sword. "Surely, if I can't do something, Thorin could."

"Would he even want to?" Kili contradicted.

"I will have to find out."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Fili stuck to his words and hoped that there would be some mercy in the king's heart that day. Nobody was in the hall as the blonde dwarf approached the throne.<p>

"Uncle, might I have a few words with you?" He asked.

Thorin looked at him with a crinkled brow. "You seem fidgeting. What is this pertaining?"

Realizing that the concern was that this was something more personal, Fili made his feet stay planted rather than sway and shook his head. "Nothing that needs to be said in private. It's about Miss Azel, the lightfoot half-breed."

"What would you have to say about her? Has she offended you?" Thorin seemed slightly amused.

"When her arm is well, I'd like to see her back working with the furnaces." He cut straight to it, making his voice firm. "You know that there is nobody else willing to put their arm in those furnaces – they use shovels and tongs but toss the coals in such a way that heats the metals unevenly. Nobody else can–"

"I agree that she was the best at her job, but there are rules that have been in place before either of us was born." Thorin cut him off, commanding more attention than Fili could ever hope to receive. "Her arm is a serious injury and this is not a job like forging where it takes a craftsman. We do not let these people continue for fear of harming our own."

Fili lowered his head slightly. "Yes, but this was a minor accident–"

"That she was foolish enough to let happen."

"–That I was foolish enough to cause, being the difference." He admitted for the first time to anyone that wasn't his brother. Never had he the heart to inform the king or even his mother that he'd been the reason someone was left in so much pain.

Thorin fell silent and watched him sternly, awaiting the explanation.

"I admit I had some distrust towards her after the outburst she had here in the hall." Coins still littered the stairs since no order had been made to be rid of them, now to be picked up one by one by passer-bys for good luck. "Especially when four days follow, she gifted my mother with that stone necklace. I went to confront her and I was the one to cause offense. The only reason she was distracted was because I pestered her and she was forced to turn away from her work to mouth off to me."

"You _fool_." Thorin's voice was disappointed, words slow and quiet. "If you suspect anyone of ill-game, if you do not trust our people, you will come to me. I am still king, for however long or short I decide to be king. You certainly do not go to the workplace of someone in such a dangerous profession and _accuse_ them."

"I had only thought of my family, not of the throne, and that's where my mistakes begin." Fili confessed, not disagreeing for a moment that he was wrong. "I made it worse by not knowing that an injury would result in her losing her job, and visiting her while so naïve. If you do not see it fit to bend this rule, then at least allow me to find her another means of making her money."

"You will do nothing." Thorin refused. His nephew looked up in surprise. "Consider this a council. You have come to me and now the decisions are mine to make. Step away from the issue and pray that there is a right number of times to apologize, for even the quiet rage of women is much to endure."

Fili took a breath before bowing slightly. "Thank you, Uncle."

* * *

><p>Finally rid of her sling, Azel felt a freedom in being able to move her arm. There were still moments she felt the dragon fires licking at her skin, which had grown smooth and taught as well as very pink, but they were few despite being slow.<p>

No longer did she feel a shame to walk around, as the sling did make her feel mildly like an invalid. People could look at her and whisper for more reasons than the usual, and it was a burden to bare the heavy weight of those undertones. Also, as much as she loved her friends it was a relief to not have them stuck to her side and doting on her.

With this freedom Azel went down to the market, as crowded and cluttered as it currently was. She bought herself a roll smeared in honey, a new tunic as few of hers had sleeves due to the job she no longer had, and then she wandered down to the craftier of shops. There was a section for art, furniture, and other handmade novelties that were not just another thing to wear.

Down there, she found the toy makers. Bofur and Bifur, though the axe-burdened Bifur was not there. Pausing a moment, Azel watched Bofur carving a flute with a careful, steady hand. She waited for him to lift the blade away from the wood to speak.

"Are you exited that the market may move soon?" She asked him with a smile.

The fence was one third of the way from complete and most of the stray coins on the ground were picked up slowly.

Bofur looked up at her, setting the flute down. "Oh, aye, I am. Though I do not know how much longer I may be a toy maker. I've treasure up to my ears now, but there is a joy in my craft."

"You'd stop making toys?" She wondered.

"At least for merit of more coin of my own. Bifur's ceased to because he very well could." He told her. "I'm seeking an apprentice, maybe two if I choose to retire and whittle for hobby now." Then he stood a little straighter, pointing at her with the half-finished flute. "Hey, haven't I heard that you're in need of a job, or are you a different young lass?"

"You probably have heard it because it's true, but for fear of the fact that I could never be trusted with a knife so near my fingers, I'd say I'm not a future toy maker." She let him down softly, an idea arousing itself. "But I do know one."

"Do you now?" He listened intently.

She nodded with a smile. "I believe so. My dear friend Cecla. She's a simple cook now, but she's fawned over your work before. I'm sure she'd be easily and happily convinced to apprentice for a skilled toy maker."

He seemed pleased. "I believe I do know the Lady Cecla. Perhaps I'll ask her. If anything she will be something more fair to look at than my cousin Bifur."

"Of course. It was a pleasure to speak to you, Master Bofur. I look forward to seeing your shop when the market moves." Azel bowed her head and moved on.

She'd just left the market place with her few purchases in her burlap sack when there was a deep voice behind her.

"May I speak with you?"

Azel turned and met the eyes of the king.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

><p>All her talk, all her confidence, fell away when Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, <em>King<em> of Erebor, of the line of Durin, had asked her to follow him. Azel was stricken to the point that she had little more substance than a bowl of pudding. She followed him on weak knees and a mind that didn't even gather _where_ they were going. All she knew was they ended up in a small room with books on one wall of shelves, weapons and artefacts on the other, and a desk cluttered with parchment.

_Was she in the king's study_?

There was no time to confirm or deny as Thorin turned to her, door closed by a guard behind her.

"May I see your arm?" He asked.

It was a request so out of the blue that she didn't catch it. "What? I'm sorry." She said.

"Your arm. May I see the burn?" He elaborated.

She gave a small 'oh!' and unshouldered her bag to make it easier on herself. Carefully, she pulled up her loose sleeve and bunched it over her shoulder, baring her arm. Marring her olive skin was one large, nearly rectangular patch of pink.

Thorin stepped forward and took her arm in his hands, which awed her, turning her whatever which way he liked to see it better. Then his rough finger brushed over the healing skin and she tilted away from the touch.

"Did that hurt?" The king asked her in a steady tone, emotion unreadable.

"Not particularly, but it is sensitive." She denied. It'd just felt like she knew every ridge of his fingerprint, like feeling every tangled fuzz on a wool blanket that made you itch.

He let her arm go and she lowered her sleeve slowly. Thorin had thought long and hard the past week of what to do about her work position after Fili had spoken to him. He'd asked his guards to tell him to moment her arm was out of its sling, hoping that seeing for himself how she healed would help him make a decision.

It helped but he still favoured no choice more than the other. Moving away a few paces, he then turned back to the part dwarrowdam that he had in his study.

"Seeing as it was my nephew and the heir who has caused you to scar your arm, I hold some responsibility, which I will not let linger above my head." He told her formally. "I will also not make this decision for you though I originally intended to. If you wish, there is a position for an apprentice smith. To begin you will do little more than pour metal into molds, but it is an artisan craft that you will not be forced from next injury. Though if you'd prefer it, I will this once allow you to return to your old job when you feel ready."

Azel's mouth fell open a moment and she took in a breath. There was every reason to agree to become a blacksmith. More money, it was a trade, she'd learn more skills, there'd be less danger, _every reason_. Anyone would be begging for that position, and some likely were.

But she didn't want to be a smith.

"I'd like to return to the furnaces, my King." She admitted in a soft voice, almost shamed by her own choice. She must look stupid for wanting to stick her arm in those things and she expected him to scowl and call her ridiculous.

Instead, Thorin could have commended her. "You will take some more time off, until the heat could not harm the burn, and then you may return to the furnaces."

Her insecurities made her mouth open. "I don't mean to sound like a fool or as though I doubt I'd make a good smith, but there are people who will want the apprenticeship more."

"I did not judge you." Thorin informed her.

"It's not that I'm not grateful, because I would have been, but people with little passion develop little skill." She carried on despite. "I could name three dwarves here off the top of my head that would be chomping at the bit to have that job, and do more than well at it."

He had opened his mouth to silence her, but then interest befell him at her tone. "So name them." He said suddenly.

Azel startled for half a moment that he cared enough not to send her out the room at her rambling, but she did name them. "Cadwallen of the Rusthammer clan, Lornell son of Liorno, and Bhiac of the Iron Hills."

"And who would you choose?" Thorin asked, tone speculating.

She gave more hesitance with this question. Nerves were fluttering up and she swallowed before giving it true thought. "Lornell." She claimed. "He's the youngest but he knows the most of metal and speaks of how to shape it. He was a miner in the Blue Mountains, but a guard here."

"He is a friend of yours?" The king crossed his arms, looking down at her.

That made her scoff, embarrassingly. "No. My friends are rare. I hear a lot. People may not like me, but they do not shut up when I am near them." She confessed, slowly picking up her forgotten bag.

Thorin took note of every word she said. He may never acknowledge that she said it and later make his own choices, but for the moment he was getting to know his people. Even if it was just one at the time. It seemed to be a curious one.

"I have one last matter before you may go." He claimed, looking over her expression, waiting for her first reactions. "Why did you gift my sister Dis a necklace?"

There was a sadness in her eyes which fell several inches before she looked back up at him. "When I lost my mother I lost the protection of her love against the bitterness of other people. Over fifty years ago, Dis gave me kind words when she owed me none. I couldn't thank her before, and now I feared she'd never recollect it, so I said the princes needn't mention who I was."

He said nothing of her sensitive moment, just dismissing her on the spot. Azel thanked him for reinstating her job at the furnaces.

He claimed, "You should instead thank Fili. He requested to find you a job."

Her amusement was mild. "No offense, but I don't think I'll be doing that. Maybe forgiving him, but not thanking him."

"Understandable."

She smiled at him before letting herself out of the study.

Never having been to that part of the kingdom, it took her half an hour to find home.

* * *

><p>Despite seeing them every day, it felt like Azel never truly had a chance to talk to her friends. This wasn't true, of course, but the topic of conversation was usually going in a certain direction and none of the three found a break. Either way, it took Azel three days to find a moment to first, remember what had happened; and second, tell them what had happened.<p>

When she did it was in the great hall during lunch and she announced it with a simple, "Oh, I've met the king."

Even though what she said was small, the reaction was momentous. "What? You when? You what?" Miwren bewilderingly sputtered.

"In the name of all that is good! How so?" Cecla asked just as noisily, but at least made herself understandable.

"Well, he knew who I was and didn't have to ask my name, and he pulled me aside to let me know I could go back to working the furnaces."

She didn't dare mention the apprenticeship. They'd both scold her for not taking the safer, sane, better paying work over her ridiculous one. She also wouldn't breathe a word of being in his study, lest they pester her endlessly for details of it.

"Speaking of jobs," Cecla murmured, her face going flush. "I've been offered a toy maker's apprenticeship. Bofur asked me personally."

"That's great!" Miwren cheered. "What'd you say?"

She hid her face in her hands. "My mouth said yes before my brain could remind me how awful an idea it is."

Azel rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll get to know him and maybe this will pass or maybe things will work out for the very best. You never know."

Cecla dropped her hands and looked between them. "What I _do_ know is that he said I came suggested to him. I know it was one of you, and I will find out which one!" She threatened.

"One of us? Pfft, don't be so paranoid!" Miwren feigned offense in a way that very much made it sound like it was her. Cecla gave her a glare before clearing her place at the table and leaving them. Casually, Miwren asked, "Was it you?"

"Yeah." Azel answered.

"Good job."

"Wish you thought of it?" She teased.

"Starting to, yeah." Miwren agreed. "So, the king?"

She smiled to herself. "Stern face but surprisingly nice."

They finished lunch with less speed than Cecla and then had to part as Miwren had work to do. Wandering off on her own, Azel did what she sometimes liked to do when she had no work. She went to the room where the fabrics were dyed. Not for scenery, but for the old dwarrowdams who chattered and sang and actually liked her from the days that her mother used to work with them.

After a couple hours of song and whispers of how they could make beautiful dresses, Azel headed for home again. Everything being in such opposite directions, she had to cross through the throne hall, glimpsing that the king and his princes were there but not letting her eyes linger. She was never one to fawn or be too interested in their affairs before, so she would not be now.

This would be made easier if they didn't notice her. They all spotted the half-breed dressed more like a man with her short honey brown hair, and Fili excused himself to follow after her. It took a short jog to reach her side just as she was leaving the hall.

"Miss Azel." The voice that was growing familiar to her made her stop in the mouth of the path leading away from the hall. She was not aware that they were in perfect view of the throne still, turning solely to lay eyes on Fili.

"Prince Fili." She dipped her head formally, feeling the start of a fire in her chest but knowing there was little reason to remain angry now.

His face read like he expected all the rage in the world. "I know you have no reason to stop as I say your name and for you to listen to my words might be a blessing in this moment. Again, I would just like to tell you how impossibly sorry I am, though I am glad to see you have use of your arm so quickly."

A month wasn't terribly quick, but she didn't complain aloud. "I have no more feud with you. Relax." She told him with a small smile.

Blue eyes widened incredibly. "Does this mean I've apologized the right number of times?"

"What?" She blinked.

"Thorin says to pray there is a right number of times to apologize when Having instilled a woman with rage." He explained. "I had never thought to reach that number."

"Oh, you haven't." She promised him. "Under normal circumstances I'd be furious. I still feel ire when I see you, but not much, not since the King kindly let me have my position at the furnaces back. I apparently have you to thank, but I will not thank you so much as forgive and let this anger die peacefully."

With one exhale, he seemed to relax and shrink with his ease. "All I wished for was forgiveness, not thanks. I, in turn, should thank you."

She didn't know what else to do. Smiling, Azel just gave his shoulder a punch. "Don't worry about it." She told him, then turned on the ball of her foot to carry herself home.

While she went home and her friend worked, Cecla went to her first day in her apprenticeship with Bofur, having taken the morning to explain that she'd be absent from the kitchens then on. Her blush was bright the entire time, to the point that while she was being taught how to hold a whittling knife Bofur asked if she was too warm. He was too kind, which she accidentally blurted out when denying. He just laughed and thanked her.

As she got the hang of whittling, Cecla curiously asked, "So, which friend suggested me for this apprenticeship?" She wanted to know who to spite for a short time, pettily and nervously.

"Hmm, well, I'm not entirely sure that I know her name." Bofur began, rubbing a hand through his beard. "The skinny lass with the dark skin and hairless face – you know, the girl who hired the new blacksmith apprentice."

Cecla knew it was Azel in the first part, but the second stumped her. "Hired the blacksmith? What do you mean?"

"Oh, aye. It's not well known but she picked out the apprentice. A guard, I believe." Bofur explained. "When Thorin offered her that job, she turned it down to work the furnaces and gave him some names. She picked her favourite, but Thorin looked over all the candidates before deciding she was right." He looked at her curiously. "Did she not tell you about that?"

"No, maybe just not yet." Cecla shook her head, looking down at her work feeling almost embarrassed that he knew something about her friend that she did not.

After the afternoon of work ended, she went to confront Azel. The lightfoot was at Miwren's where they'd agreed to meet for dinner, laughing at something the dwarrowdam had said when Cecla let herself in. She huffed, sat down, and sat straight.

"How come you didn't tell us that you consulted the king on the new blacksmith?" She asked sharply.

Azel looked at her with utter confusion and maybe slight judgement for her attitude. "What? I didn't." She claimed.

"Bofur says you picked him. That you gave the king your personal choice." Cecla said.

"I–" She wanted to refuse again until she recalled her nervous talk of potential smiths. "No, I didn't mean to consult the king. I babbled nervously. The king offered me that place but I don't want to be a smith. When I said I knew at least three who would rather the job, he asked me who. Was I supposed to say nothing?"

"You could have said something to us." Miwren took Cecla's side, if only just.

Azel sighed. "I didn't know he'd listen to me. I was uneasy and the words just fell from my mouth." She claimed. "I told him of Lornell. Everyone who's met him knows he's a clever man with metal."

"Oh, Lornell would be a good smith." Miwren smiled.

Seeing her friend get distracted, Cecla shot her a look. "It doesn't save the fact that Azel kept it from us."

"Because I believed that it would amount to nothing. I do not need to tell you every detail of conversations I have." Azel reminded them. "Nor did I even know Lornell was chosen. I'm glad for him."

"Well," Cecla relaxed some. "As long as it's not as extravagant as it sounds. If it happens again, though, let us know!"

"I don't think that the king will ever care what I have to say."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

><p>For a month, Erebor seemed to be just as it was. For a moment there, it seemed like Azel's life was sitting on someone else's hinges. It made no sense for royalty to not only know her name but address her as Lady or Miss when they used it. There was no reason that the king should have listened to her words and done what she had personally suggested.<p>

Now, people were back to bumping into her, standing their ground when she wanted to pass, and all over ignoring her. This was how it should be.

"They say fifteen minutes of fame should be cherished." Miwren said once Azel commented in relief that eyes were beginning to turn away from her. "Do you not wish that people still whispered that the princes spoke to you or that you've returned to your job after injury when no one else has?"

"I wish to hear no whispers in my life ever again, but at least the ones now about my blood and my appearance are easy to handle." She claimed.

In truth, she was only out of the light to the eyes of the public. With silence and care, Thorin and few of his company did watch on. The king if curiosity of what she may know, and others based on the acts of her passion. After all, all she'd done did speak of passion – saving the child, confronting the king, and even going back to her simple job. She even somehow gained the eye of Dwalin, who'd squint and wonder how such a small, beardless half-breed could act the way she did, with courage.

While all was well for the people and things returned to normal for the one, in the private study of the king there was more to worry about than whispers. There was talk of a deal to be formed between Rohan and the Iron Hills. As ally to Dain in the Iron Hills, Thorin was a part of this negotiation, which as a king had to be well thought out.

"You have waited long enough, Thorin." Balin spoke as his advisor, voice uncompromising. "Erebor was reclaimed six months past and you have yet to form a council to aid in such decisions as this treaty with the king Rohan and Dain."

Thorin paced his study, arms tucked behind his back as his eyes trained on the floor ahead of him. "I have seen few fit. I bide my time, and Dain should be so lucky that I make him wait. It'll give him time to come to a decision he knows we'll both trust."

"Or you could hold a council and give him your true opinion." Balin disagreed. "Do what all the kings of old have done. Take the head of the fifteen wealthiest families and–"

"I do not trust the dim minds of the wealthy, who will take the side of gold." He claimed, cutting off his beloved old friend and guide. "Not after what gold has done to my grandfather. And you recall the old Master of Lake-Town. How easily my bribes swayed him. That is not the sort I will have on my council."

Balin sighed, but he understood. "At least come up with a few trusted names. Surely you have some idea."

"Anyone who was in my company may join the council if they so wish. For Fili, it will be necessary." Thorin said quickly, still pacing. He gave it a little more thought. "I will also have Siric of the Silverbeards. Ratog, of the guard, and Lady Figge, who trained Dis in her refinery. And I want Miss Azel, the smelter."

"Miss Azel?" Balin baulked. "The council has only ever been open to those of a higher tier, full-bloods from strong families! She may be the lowest class citizen in all of Erebor."

"I believe in her judgement." Thorin stopped pacing, looking down at Balin in his chair. "Her reasoning for returning to be a lowly smelter was sound, and her knowledge of other people in this kingdom is fair. She not only suggested a proper smith to me, but Bofur has claimed that she pointed him in the direction of a new toy maker who's showed incredible potential in short weeks. These are small facts, but imagine her on the council. Where a difference is made."

The white haired dwarf could not fathom it. "Yes, but what would the people say? She does not even attempt to dress like a dwarrowdam may, or hold the same jobs as them. The women will look down on her, and the men will create uproar."

Thorin could see it, understand where his friend was coming from. "But would the people not act the same towards some of my company if not for our quest to restore Erebor?" He suggested.

"Aye, some may, but the difference is we went on a quest. She is but a… smelter." He repeated himself. "A lightfoot. Half-breed. This will be endlessly frowned upon."

"Unless she were to make something of her name." The king repeated.

"Aye, of course, but how so in such a short amount of time?" Balin asked tensely.

Thorin gave a small smile, moving his arms to cross over his chest. "The Festival of Gabilgathol Azaghâl is in a few weeks' time. Winners of all classes have been revered and bowed to in years past."

The Festival of Gabilgathol Azaghâl, generally only called Gabilgathol Fest, was an old Erebor tradition to take place every ten years. In the first year of their return, Thorin thought that it was fitting and would be uplifting to hold it once more, and carry on the tradition. The name itself of course meant The Great Fortress of Warriors, and so the festival showed it. Tasks were set about in all ranges of battles skills, from axe throwing and archery to sparring with no arms, to fighting with swords and axes and hammers. One winner would fight their way to the top of the ranks of both dwarves and dwarrowdams and have songs sung about them for months.

"You cannot possibly expect the lass to win! She is but a toothpick." Balin alarmed, looking up at his king with, for the first time in a long time, doubt.

Thorin gave the slightest of a scoff. "It is as unlikely as anything. But if she makes in into the top ten, I will have the people see reason for her in my council. If she does not, I will allow you to fill the remaining places with whomever fits, whether in money or in brains." He wagered.

This was not a wager to pass on. Balin accepted and left to conduct business of his own. Starting with talking to the dwarves who previously made up their company, and then compiling a list to fill the remainder of the fifteen spaces. He had much doubt that the lass would make it so far in the tourney when her arms looked as if she'd never touched a sword in her life.

* * *

><p>On a day that seemed unlikely to happen for any of the company, a day where Erebor thrived and they all lived, a hobbit walked through the front gates on the invite of the king. Nobody noticed him, with his pack and his walking stick, walking through the Hall of the Kings across golden floors, going back through halls to what had once been the room of treasure that he had faced and averted the dragon Smaug.<p>

It was empty of coin now, with a short wall at the far end and shops being built against the stone edges, stands starting to be erected along the walkways and flats of the middle. He stared in awe before a dwarf passed him. Just taller, with shorter hair, wearing huge glove and the rest of them hidden by piles of coats.

"Um, excuse me, Master Dwarf." He interrupted before they could pass.

Nothing in Azel's life had been more amusing as she turned to the short fellow.

His eyes widened in alarm at her delicate face turned up in a smirk, her thin arms bare from sleeves, and a bodice pulling her tunic tight against her skin. "Oh, my apologies, I couldn't see behind the coats."

"You wouldn't be the first to mistake a dwarf from dwarrowdam." She assured him. "But the first to mistake me. It's the beards on the women, one I seem to lack."

Bilbo was still slightly stuttering. "It was a mistake, fair maiden. I would not know what a dwarf woman looked like either way. My name's Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End."

"Please, master hobbit, your apology is needless. I'm Azel, at your service." She mocked a short curtsy even in her trousers. "How may I help you?"

"I- I was just wondering where all the gold had gone? I remember it being… mountainous." He asked her nervously, not fully recovering from his mistake.

How ironic that he'd asked her. "Well, a little lad had gone too far for heavy footed dwarves to bring him back to safety, so a lightfoot went to help him. There was an avalanche that nearly had them both, so the king ordered all the gold thrown off the side of the cliff." Azel needn't draw any attention by saying it was herself.

"All of it?" He awed.

"Well, nearly. Many chests had been saved and moved into the new treasury before this happened, so Erebor still has much wealth." She answered. "The miners work now not to deplete more gold veins, but rather going down into the chasm to retrieve little of what's lost for the time being."

There was a moment of quiet. Having been just on her way home from working, Azel was wanting to carry on rather than stand there, so she asked, "Would you have any more questions for me?"

Bilbo tore his eyes from the market in construction to the fair faced girl. "Would you happen to know where Thorin is? He invited me to stay for the festival, but I didn't see him on my way in."

Azel pondered. If he wasn't on his throne upon entry, he may be in his study. She rather wished there was someone that she could ask, but the guards rarely knew. Maybe the princes, but she didn't even know where they were.

"Well," She breathed in. "I do know where his study is if you wish to have a look there. If he is not, then surely the guard posted outside will have word of where he's been. Would that be alright?"

"If you would not mind it, that sounds just fine." He claimed.

"As long as I am moving, I care not where I go." She smiled at him and turned to lead the way. As she did, she moved her coats from her shoulder to drape over her arms and hold in front of her.

She felt Bilbo's eyes on her arm before he opened his mouth. "I'm sorry, what's happened to your arm, if you don't mind me asking?"

It was lucky for Fili that she was slowly getting over it, just holding onto the hopeful words that this scar would fade. "I work with the furnaces, and I got this about two months ago. Maybe with a half tagged on, now." She said.

"Will it fade?"

"Absolutely, eventually." Azel said. They moved into the cold halls leading up to the richest tiers of the kingdom. "It's a pleasure to meet you, may I say. I've only heard word of the hobbit that helped save Erebor."

"Ah, well, looking at the big picture I only had the smallest part. Plus, I awoke a dragon." He winced.

She smiled, almost charmed by his behaviour. "I don't envy it." She said.

After her first venture there and having spent so much time trying to find her way to familiar halls, it was impossible to forget where Thorin's study was. She lead Bilbo there with casual chatter, asking how his venture to Erebor was and answering a few questions about Gabilgathol Fest.

When they reached the study, there were two guards appointed outside. Azel kindly walked up. "Master Baggins is here to see the king Thorin. Would he be here?" She asked.

One guard looked at Bilbo in slight surprise, the other maybe looking but eyebrows and beard too thick to see much of his face. "Aye, he is. He will be wantin' to see the hobbit." The hairier one said.

Azel turned to Bilbo and gave a light bow. "This is where we part."

"Um- Perhaps I will see you again whilst I'm visiting, Miss Azel." He spoke back to her.

"I would not be so quick to hope for that." She spoke almost ominously, turning away and leaving him to the host who had invited him there in the first place.

When the guards announced him, Thorin was up from his desk with Balin and Dwalin, ignoring business to greet his friend with a quick embrace.

* * *

><p>The week long glory that was Gabilgathol Fest began simply with decoration, song, and food. The first day was nothing but excitement as the warriors who wished to try for the title of grand champion gathered the bright blue sashes. Beginning tomorrow, men and women alike would be walking around with them tied around their right arms, showing their bravery to fight in such an event.<p>

Most, however, put them on the moment they got them, so at that night's party, a hundred blue sashes could be found on arms amongst the people. They danced and laughed in a huge, lit hall, tables for feasting around the couples and friends jumping around with each other in cheer.

It took convincing, but Azel dressed up, albeit in slender human garb, and attended with her friends. She ate with them and let her cup be filled with a sweet mead, though only once. Dwarven men came and took the hands of Cecla and Miwren to carry them off to the dance floor, and they'd merrily spin them around. Some even wore sashes.

Azel was a good spectator. She rather it be that way. Sitting on the side, laughing at the scenes these dwarves made over the fairly few dwarrowdams, sometimes singing along when music was played that all dwarves knew the words to, making it a chant and the room fill with deep voices, practically shaking the mountain.

It was what she was doing when someone came to her side – having a sit while watching Miwren being spun right off her feet and Cecla having a blushing word with Bofur, who seemed to approach her simply to say hello. Azel wouldn't have even noticed this someone if their intent was not to talk to her.

But he did. "Why aren't you dancing, Miss Azel?" Bilbo wondered, standing next to the unoccupied seat to her left.

She smiled at him before looking out at the festivities. "Oh, nobody asks me. You'll learn that quickly, Master Baggins."

"Just Bilbo." He corrected.

"Then I'll be only Azel." She countered.

He gave a smile, then nervously looked around. "I'm sure somebody has asked. You're very beautiful. Surely you could have whatever suitor you wanted."

A humoured scoff left her and she turned to him. "I assure you, that is the funniest thing that has ever been said to me. I'm not fair, not by dwarvish standards." She said. "Nor am I even of average class. Bilbo, I do believe that you are talking to the lowest class citizen in all of Erebor. There is nobody I'd say is lesser than I."

"That cannot be true, as long as anyone should value your company." He refused. "I do, somewhat, value your company. I'd love if you'd dance with me."

"And you could have the company of any other woman in the room."

Warily, he glanced around. "I'd hate to say this, true as it is, but I might slightly fear the other women in this room. If it weren't for the frocks, I may just accidentally ask a man."

It cheered her instantly and she laughed. "We can't have that. In this case, Bilbo, I'd love to dance."

She was just the right height for it. Maybe an unnoticeable one or two inches than him, but they moved to the dancefloor and had one embarrassed pause before catching on to the dance. They paraded in circles with arms linked, kicking their feet and having a joyous time of it. It was possibly the first time in five years she'd danced, and the very first time that it wasn't with one of her friends.

Never would she voice this to the hobbit.

Azel was a sight to see to anyone else. She lifted the skirt of her dress and had her clunking boots on underneath, her growing hair swinging around and in her face, which was in a massive grin. Bilbo was just as thrilled, thumbs looped in the straps of his suspenders but he was not who most looked to once the pair were noticed. Nobody had really seen the half-breed join in on the celebrations before.

After two songs and enjoying Bilbo's company greatly, they walked away from the crowding dance floor. While the hobbit was at the head table, she was only at the side table, so they stopped on the edge of the room between the two. She assumed to say a shot farewell, but he did not say an immediate goodbye.

"Will you be joining Gable- Galble- the events?" He stumbled, looking up at her.

"Me? No. I'm already fair game for picking on, so I won't be painting that kind of target on my back." She refused.

There was a frown on his face, evident by the crease in his brow just as much as the turning of the corners of his mouth. "Why do you talk about yourself like that?"

Her look softened with pity – maybe for him for not knowing, and maybe just for herself. "I'm a half-breed. Only one I've ever known, as you won't find another in the Blue Mountains, Iron Hills, or Erebor. I'm not _truly_ a dwarf, yet I live amongst them. I don't deserve such pride."

"You should." He spoke a bit forcefully. "You shouldn't have to have dwarvish pride, but pride for yourself, both sides of you. Who gives a care what others think?"

"Everybody cares what other people think about them." She informed him. "Or you would not have asked me to dance for fear of asking a man."

"That's different. That's just ten seconds of embarrassment. As a whole, I'm quite pleased with myself, and my adventure, but also very much pleased with my books and my hairy feet. Not everything about me is a luxury, but I'm proud to be a Baggins, of Bag End."

Azel's mouth opened and for half a second she was wordless. Before she could counter, there was a low voice interrupting with, "Mister Baggins."

They both looked over as Thorin, in his robes and crown, strode to them. Her eyes lowered as his grey ones flicked to her.

"Miss Azel." Thorin greeted.

"My king." She said and, for the first time in her many mockings, curtsied while holding her skirt.

The king looked to his friend formally. "Bilbo, would you mind if I spoke a few moments with your friend alone?"

"Course not." Bilbo said, looking to her. "Despite what you say, it was good to see you again, Azel."

She didn't bring herself to say any words as the hobbit walked away. Azel just looked up at Thorin, a little nervous to meet his eye.

He just moved a little further into the corner and asked, "Have you thought of joining the games, Miss Azel?"

A slight frown found her face. "I wouldn't consider myself a candidate. I also would not like to possibly go head on with someone who may 'accidentally' slip and kill me." It wouldn't be the first, according to lore, that this happened.

"I do not any of my people would wish you true harm." Thorin replied, unsettled.

"Truly? Have you met Porge?" She wondered.

His eyes were downcast for a moment. "I do not believe I have, no. I do, however, believe that you should enter."

"Whatever for?" The outburst was loud, but nobody was near enough to have their attention caught.

There was a hesitance before he told her outright. "There has been a wager placed."

"Is that so? For or against me?" She crossed her arms haughtily, having the audacity to glare at the king.

"There are two sides to every wager."

"That does not mean that there is a right side."

"I will give you that, but there is no ill will behind this one."

"Well, it's all for naught. I haven't a sword or a reason to care."

Thorin mocked her position, arms crossing, expression sharp. "I will loan you a sword myself should you agree, and as for reasons to care, do you not know how the winner is praised? I've only heard rumours of you, but nobody could doubt even you if you won."

"Only a fool would think I'd win, and I'm no fool." Azel quirked a brow singularly, mouth turning up in an unamused way.

The king just seemed confident and condescending. "Neither am I. At least attempt to prove us both wrong."

She thought for a moment, really thought, and asked, "Where would you think I'd place?"

His gaze went up and down her body, scrutinizing. "Your arms are sticks, you seem to have no weight or muscle, the only thing going for you is that you're a lightfoot. I'd be surprised if you made it through axe throwing. Not even the top fifty warriors, I'd claim."

Out of over one hundred, there would be a lot of youngsters, weak and not trained, along with women. It was truly offensive to hear she'd not be even in the top fifty.

"I'm better than that! I could make the top twenty, at the _least_. And I will rub it in your face when I do." She claimed, her heat bubbling up and electricity dancing over her skin at the challenge.

He put a hand in his coat. "I do believe that you've just subjected yourself to be, as you claimed, a pompous champion in a fool's game." Thorin recalled, taking out a blue sash.

She scowled deeper. "I'm not after the prize." She said and stuck her left arm out. He began to tie it around her bicep, harsh and callous. "I'm tired of unassuming types like you."

"You will watch what you say about me." He said, tying the bow extraordinarily tight. "Should you prove me wrong, you may brag, but do not forget I am your king."

"Fine." She ground out, trying not to wince at how tight he made it. "Don't forget the sword you're loaning me."

"I am a man of my word." He said, still bitter, before turning and walking away.

As soon as his back was to her, her mouth fell open in whinging and she stuck a finger between her arm and the sash, really having to force it. She loosened it the entire way back to her seat, her friends waiting.

They noticed with ease that she was adorned with something new while she kept fiddling with it. Their looks were concerned and doubtful, but not an ill word was spoken.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

><p>Azel never thought of entering Gabilgathol's games not for fear of her lack in skill, but for the fact that she had no wish to hear the complaints and slurs against her. Ones she truly did get the next day when she showed up outside Erebor in the fields where events were set up and rows of stone and logs of differing heights were placed for spectators.<p>

She walked up to the dwarrowdams' hour of axe throwing and heard the cackling of the women, but most of all the shouts of disgruntled dwarves in the crowds, with a few loud boos. Guests from Dale or otherwise did not understand the remarks.

Many years ago, before her mother died, she was told stories of her father, a ranger of the north, who had many combat skills. Skills that she claimed should come naturally to Azel. For many months with worn out weapons meant to be burned or reforged, she'd snuck from the halls of the Blue Mountains and trained. In secret, even from her mother, Azel practiced her birth right of fighting skill from the father she never knew.

It had been years since she'd touched a weapon that wasn't for simple transporting reasons, but it came back with ease when her turn came, no practice allowed in the field. Her first strike was the practice, hitting the outermost ring painted on the flat of a sliced log. It gained laughs, until the next four throws hit the absolute centre, so near each other two hatchets fell from new ones knocking into them.

There were cheers respectively from those who did not know her.

The slight urge to seek out the eyes of the king and use iglishmêk to sign that he was a bastard was one that she passed on, choosing instead to sit out and focus on later events. There were two a day for five days because of the number of challengers, a fraction eliminated after each event until there were only fifty on the final day. She just had to last to the final day and hopefully do better that a little more than half of them, or be embarrassed for _life_.

While Azel stood amongst the warriors watching the rest, Cecla and Miwren came through the crowds of dwarvish men. They ignored the few that tried to flatter them to come to Azel's side.

"Look," Cecla started to reason with her. "I know we said nothing of it last night, but is there a purpose for your doing this? Everyone's reactions… We didn't think it'd be like this and we're worried for you."

The olive skinned girl ran her hands together, not wanting to say she'd gotten upset and a challenge got the better of her. Especially when on the other end of this challenge was the king himself.

"Let the people react." She told her friends. "Nothing will happen. These are just games, Cecla, and rare ones at that. I chose to take part, suddenly but surely."

Only she wasn't as sure as she let on.

"Your throwing was amazing, though." Miwren spoke in the voice of good cheer between the two. "If you'd only gotten the first one, it'd be a perfect score! I hadn't a clue you could do anything like that."

Azel gave a small shrug. "That's the easy one. I don't exactly have practice in any of these other tasks, except maybe archery." She said.

That was the second task of the day. Archery. Just like with axe throwing, they'd have five arrows and have to hope to hit the target each time. Again, with no practice.

"What will you do about the sparring?" Cecla asked in hushed urgency. "Have you fought a day in your life?"

She could say yes. There'd been times in the wild she'd come across wolves and goblins alike, and times where she'd travelled some distances before she met her friends and had to pick up a weapon. Only, those were things she hadn't mentioned.

"Before I met my two best friends, I did a lot of things." Azel confessed with a slight smile. They seemed surprised, the ever protected dwarrowdams they were, never having fought or gone out into the wild for ventures without hordes of men, like when finally making the trip to Erebor. "You think I just woke up one day and chose to stick my arm in a fire? There's a bravery behind that, you know."

"Sure, we do!" Miwren awed. "But we simply thought you mad with bravery in that sense when no dwarf does what you do. Tongs and shovels are the keener approach."

Cecla seemed the most alarmed. "You do many things I wish you didn't. I'm sure we've wrapped wounds for you a dozen times, and the things you say! I worry."

"But things turn out right endlessly. I'm sorry you worry, but I just do and say things that are right to me." She answered with sympathy.

"And you keep doing them." Miwren affirmed, reaching out to right the leather corset Azel wore. "No need to change for us. Just maybe consciously try to be safe, okay?"

"I swear on it." Azel smiled.

They went off with embraces and well-wishes, going to continue watching from the crowd. At the end of the first event, two things were done. The eliminated were called off, to start. This narrowed the group by eight dwarrowdams and four very young dwarves, maybe still under the age of fifty. Secondly, the top ten were announced. Azel made it fourth due to her one near miss, behind trained warriors and the blonde prince.

If she'd known Fili and Kili were entering, she'd have placed wagers. She could see either one, maybe the eldest, getting much farther than most. Kili a little less so. Slim chance he'd win against such brawnier dwarves, but at least one of five to end the game.

Archery began with lines of ten going at once. To make it fair and give nobody a true advantage, every bow and arrow were the same. Taken from the guards' armoury and impersonal to those who had bows of their own. More confident in her archery skills than her axe throwing, she waited for her pack to have their turn and spent the time remembering the proper form. Watching how not to do it by stubborn dwarves who never learned the more elven trade really helped.

Her group consisted of two other dwarrowdams, both princes, and several stubborn old dwarves. By chance, Azel was placed on one end with only Kili at her side. The shots were counted off so no one dwarf took too long to aim and held them up.

After the first shot, a bulls eye, she looked to Kili's matching score. "Your courtship teach you how to shoot?" She wondered quietly, recalling the elf from Dale.

He seemed flustered as they nocked the next arrow at the call of the gamekeeper. "I knew how long before I ever met her." He claimed. Aim was called, bows lifted. "I daresay I'm a better shot."

They released at the next call and Azel looked to Kili's target before her own, confident she hadn't missed. He again it the bulls eye fifty meters away. "Is she here today?" She wondered, picking up her third arrow.

"West side." Kili started, both of them nocking their arrows. "Four hundred feet. In a group of men from Dale." They aimed. "I scouted her out but I cannot go to meet her."

They released. "I'll go." Azel reached for the fourth arrow. "If you'd like me to pass a message, that is."

"Why would you do this for me?" They nocked.

"I assumed nobody knows, meaning the king does not know." She claimed, not needing him to agree to be sure. They aimed. "And I may be the only person here that _would_ walk away from the dwarves."

"But we are currently enemies."

Arrows flew on the call.

Azel turned to him momentarily. "We are only enemies if you give me a reason to try and beat you."

"Then please." He agreed with a heartfelt expression. "At least let her know I've seen her and am glad she cares to be here."

If she wasn't looking the wrong way, then Azel would have missed seeing as an arrow soared their way. Grabbing Kili, she pulled them both back, the sharp ended rod passing him and nearly grazing her arm. There was an uproar that likely would not have happened if the prince hadn't been positioned next to her.

She knew exactly what had happened. "Porge, that wench." Azel ground out about the dwarrowdam down their very line. If anyone were to look at arrows they'd see her missing her last one.

"What in the name of Mahal was that for?" Kili snapped, turning around in rage.

Azel was quicker to move than anyone else was to realize who was responsible. She retrieved the shot arrow from Porge and knocked it, lifting her bow. With a quick aim and release, she let fly. The arrow hit its mark, piercing the skirt of the indeed fattening dwarrowdam and pinning it into the ground. As Porge tried to pull herself free, people laughed and the gamekeeper ordered them to take up their arrows.

Kili was laughing as he and Azel picked up their arrows. "Nice shot."

"I was just giving her arrow back." She teased.

When they finished, Azel disappeared. She slipped from the crowd and behind the lines of spectators, searching for the scouted elf where Kili said to. When she found Tauriel, she was spotted and recognized.

After having a seat, she relayed the words Kili had given her to see the elf's face light up, though she held it in with careful reserve. That didn't mean it was unnoticeable to Azel. She stayed there for a new twenty minutes just listening to Tauriel's stories, answers to questions like how she and Kili knew each other or how she felt about him being in these games.

From the outside peeking in, it looked like such a simple love. "And why are you two not openly together?" Azel finally asked.

To her credit, Tauriel's face didn't even fall. She held her soft smile and glow the entire time. "After the battle, Thorin could glimpse what had happened in his absence. His hatred for elves lessened, but not diminished, so in a few sharp words he said it would end as there were laws against it, while my king had previously banished me for trying to help him. Neither of us could let go, but there is one resounding voice telling him to. If the king were not his uncle, I'm sure the rebellion in Kili would show, but I understand."

Azel fell silent, wondering how that could be so.

"Why have you joined the games?" Tauriel asked on a different note to break their quiet.

She smiled. "Because the king said I wouldn't make it far."

The elf gave a small smile, on the edge of laughter. "I believe with a little more talk, you and Kili would be _dear_ friends."

She was still with Tauriel when the numbers were called. Kili gave the elf reason to celebrate by getting first, and Azel let her have it, pleased with second.

* * *

><p>In days to follow, Azel proved to not be terribly strong, but she could out smart and out manoeuvre very many.<p>

Day two of the events had been the throwing of the Warhammer, to which she'd twisted and arched her body in the best ways to gain momentum. She was somewhere in the middle of the remaining dwarves, but she'd seen how far she'd gotten compared to most of them and knew she was slightly ahead, just not top five. After had been stone over wall, where they had to shift five heavy boulders from one side of a makeshift wall to the other.

Most went for the straight forward approach of grabbing and lifting it to their laps, hoping to get the rocks higher. Azel used her wits to roll the stone instead towards her on the ground and scoop it already high into her chest. She was one of few who got all five over the wall, as knackered as she wound up, lying on the ground huffing when she was called in fifth place.

The third day was rope pulling, which began as a group event before slowly dwindling down. Two teams pulled a rope, trying to pull down the other side. The winning team was split in half and pitted against their own, and so one until there was only one. Azel knew she had never had a chance with it, being a lightfoot and having slender arms, but she somehow made it down to the final eight in her group.

The second event after the ropes was sparring. They'd start hand to hand, then there'd be two shields and one axe for them to try and get. Moving quicker than most and being small enough to fit behind a shield, she never lost against her five opponents even when she didn't start with the axe. She always found a way to get it and slam the shield out of their hands.

Day four nearly killed her. So nearly that she was tempted to opt out. They began the morning with a climbing event against the side of the Lonely Mountain. This was where some began to cower in fear of falling, nothing to keep them safe.

When Azel climbed, she was quick but in being quick, slightly unobservant. Her hand caught a sharp stone directly on and cut the top of her palm. Every grab after was painful and slippery, making her have to stop and come down before she reached the top point. It was a saving grace that she was not eliminated.

After was not only about strength, but stamina. On a sled in the grass would sit a dwarf while those competing would be standing on the inside of a loop of rope connected to this sled. It was obvious someone was damned well messing with her when on her sled sat Bombur. She didn't react, introducing herself and shaking his hand before setting up to take the ropes.

While others started far back, ready to get a running start in hopes the sled would move, she held the rope in her cut and uncut hands, pulling taught and leaning slightly forward. She tested the weight and prayed that at the very least she'd get him moving, knowing she could keep him moving once that happened. The others attempting to run would just snap back like every single dwarf before them.

"If you were sane, you'd drop out, lass!" Another competitor called out as they readied themselves.

She ignored it, closing her eyes and breathing, gaining focus. When the horn sounded she dug her feet in and pushed forward with all her weight in her hands, rope pressing against her chest. Others were ahead twenty feet before she'd gotten Bombur to move an inch, but once he did it was like all his weight was lifted. She charged forward to the awe of everyone. Vaguely, she could hear Bombur himself whooping with cheer as they began to pass people.

As if gifted by Mahal himself, she ended the five hundred foot dash in third before promptly collapsing. She could not breathe or so much as hear what the dwarves were saying as they loomed over her, vision even spotting. She vaguely recalled saying good job to Bombur but the rest of the time was a black abyss.

That night in between her moaning in pain and sleeping wherever she stood or sat, Cecla and Miwren told her that the people had cheered for her and that was why so many loomed above. They found it funny she recalled nothing of it, not even when the princes themselves carried her off the field. She repeated: Black Abyss.

With only one night left before Gabilgathol was over and the celebration of the grand champion could happen, there was a second feast to honour the remaining fifty. One of which was her, so she was dragged to it and sat at the long stretching table with the rest of the competition. Vaguely she knew of Kili, Fili, and the wench Porge being in the running.

The thing about Porge was that while she was such a horrible person, she was a decent warrior. Azel wasn't surprised she'd made it so far.

She also just didn't care, not eating a thing and ending up falling asleep right there on the table. It was a shock the noise did not wake her, this fifth day of the celebration (fourth of the competition) being just as noisy as the first night.

All that woke her in the end was someone's hand smacking her cheek. She startled in her seat, propping up ramrod straight, only to hear nothing and see the room virtually empty.

Those who remained were simply herself and King Thorin amongst piles of dirt plates and scraps. "Mmmy Kinnnng…" She murmured, voice a hum of exhaustion.

Thorin was endlessly amused. This week was further proving his prior thoughts of the lady, though she'd not call herself one. Most wouldn't notice, just think her skilled, but he'd seen just how she won these events. Every trick and practiced form. He was counting on her nearly winning, but as far as she knew he was bitterly expecting less.

"I did not think you'd last so long in the games." He said as she awoke, having slept right through over two hours of celebration.

"Of course not." She responded, waking up fairly quickly. "Had nobody ever taught you not to voice your judgements made on people you do not know? They tend to prove you wrong."

With a simple nod he told her, "Yes, and I did not voice my judgements. I simply said what needed to be heard for you to join the games."

Azel let herself up, standing opposite him. "Right, for your wager. And how much money is risked to be lost?"

"I bet no money." He spoke with honesty in his voice. She didn't know if she should take it with offense or ask what the wager was. So she said nothing. "Though Bilbo has somehow taken up a bet. Should you make it to the last round tomorrow, I'm certain he wins around a hundred gold, with all the people betting against him."

Tomorrow was all duelling. She looked to the king with contest in her eye. "And the sword you'd loan me?" She asked.

Thorin pulled back his cloak and, with one hand and a lot of ease, unclasped the sword from his own belt. Azel's lips parted in small surprise, making him notice for the first time that the top one was slightly thicker than the bottom. He held out his blade, keeping his eyes from her mouth. Her thoughts were so easy to assume, she may as well have said a thousand words.

"It's not my personal blade." Thorin swore as she took it gingerly. "It's merely a spare, but better than many. I promised you a sword – I may as well make it a good one."

"And here I spent the entire week thinking you were betting against me." She mused, holding the sword to her. "I assumed for a moment it was you who gave me Bombur to pull."

He smiled slightly, head tilting down as he attempted to hide it. "No, that would be the gamekeeper amusing himself." Thorin admitted. "Can you make it home without falling asleep against a wall?"

Azel realized she did now have to get home. "Yes. Quite possibly. We'll find out." She answered, each one coming out with a little more doubt. "I'll be fine. Thank you, my King."

It was impossible for him to let go. "I will see you home." He vowed.

"That's quite alright. I'm sure there are better things for you to do." She flushed at the thought, really not wishing for the extended amount of time to embarrass herself.

"There's no need to deny me so politely."

"There is when it's so very unnecessary."

Thorin gave a slight smile. "I mean that there is no chance in denying me."

She subjected herself to it. They left the banquet hall in eased silence, but it did not stay this way. As they passed the building market, Azel found an opportunity to speak up.

"When all the shops have moved, the market will be quite open and near the entry. Would you have guests like the market in Dale?" She inquired.

The king gave the lowering levels of the old treasury a glance. "What would we have for the men of Dale when they have little for us?"

"Well, obviously not clothes, but if you actually _shop_ in Dale everything aside from that is to offer. It could be the same here." She said. "Different weapons, different baker, toys from Bofur and odd items from a surplus of others. And not just the men of Dale. Anyone."

His gaze was piercing and severe. "You'd have me open my halls to elves?"

"To anyone." She stressed, ignoring his tone. "Why not elves? They haven't lost much so what's the harm in seeing if the people can't get a little coin from them. Besides, they like diamonds, so find a jeweller. One for the people, but who can have a few diamonds under his counter for a price."

"The people will not be pleased."

"The people are not you. They will know that since they do not have full access to a treasury, the best way to make more money is to make customers of all who bother to travel." Azel informed him. "Which I believe many would. Not once have I gone to Dale and not been asked what these halls look like. Even traveling merchants from as far as Gondor have raised the question. Plus, it's just a market in good faith, not a negotiation to hold off war. The customers need not be allies, as long as they behave."

For a moment while Thorin said nothing, Azel assumed she had said everything wrong. Then, as they neared the door to her hole in the mountain, he spoke few words. "You have given me much to think about, but for a later time. For now, I only wish you luck in the last days of Gabilgathol."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

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><p>Compared to today, the past four days seemed to suddenly be taken so lightly. From the moment that Azel woke up sore and stepped into the halls of Erebor, people had been in her ear. Asking if she was ready, taunting her by saying she wouldn't last, casting their votes of the winners or what place she'd take, generally low.<p>

She'd never seen Cecla and Miwren so silent. They were nervous for her, and suddenly had nothing to say. This was not like the other events in the tourney. It would be all fighting, properly with weapons of their choice, that they were trained it, and there were dangers. Like facing anyone who spited her enough to run her through, like Porge possibly could.

At breakfast in the great hall, people did not let down, but there was a soft break in the judgement. The hobbit she'd not seen since the pre-tourney celebration came up to her.

"Bilbo!" Azel greeted with a breath of relief that it was somebody kind.

He smiled and pat her on the shoulder. "Good luck out there today, Miss Azel. I've been hearing what people are saying and frankly I don't believe that they know a thing."

"Thank you for the kind words." She said. "It means a lot when my own friends have worried themselves into silence, but I assure you I do know how to wield a sword."

"Fantastic! I don't know what made you change your mind after you told me you'd not enter, but I'm glad you did. It gives me someone to root for." He told her, absolutely grinning. "Frankly, I didn't know how well I'd like these games when I was invited. Seemed a brutish mess – I expected it of Fili and Kili to enter, and of course I hope they do well, but I do like an unexpected favourite such as yourself. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised Dwalin hadn't entered…"

She gave him a light tap. "You know what, that's just the rules. Such seasoned warriors and guards of Erebor can't enter. If he was but forty years younger, he'd enter." Azel explained.

He 'ah'ed and nodded. "Well, I simply wanted to give you well-wishes before I couldn't anymore."

"And I thank you. Have a good day, Bilbo."

As they were leaving the great hall, Cecla and Miwren went another way. "We'll find a good seat and be waiting with water and bandages. I don't trust anybody left in the tourney." Cecla claimed over-dramatically.

While they were to gather things, Azel began on her way out of Erebor's front gates, going to prepare herself. She wasn't fully across the bridge when two figures jogged up, taking either side of her. It was Fili and Kili.

"Princes." She acknowledged with a bow of her head and sweep of her hand.

"We do have names, not just titles." Fili said.

"It's not proper to be informal." She reminded him.

"Well, get used to it." Kili teased her. Not that she understood why he'd tease her at all. So far all that linked her and these boys were, separately, an elf and a burn. "We have a proposition for you."

"A rather smart one to accept." Fili carried on. Azel looked to him. "The events today and generally the same, just different sizes. The first is five battles of ten to narrow the contenders by half."

"Which we do not want to be the enemy during." Kili added, making her swivel a second time to look at him rather than his brother. His tone was matter-of-fact and casual. "It's the perfect time to make short alliances. It's been done before – Uncle told us stories of it when we were younger."

Azel understood perfectly. "So, round one we help each other along and then round two, we're pitted against each other?" She simplified.

"Yes." Fili agreed.

"You said yourself that you were no enemy to me lest I give you reason to beat me." Kili said. "We're down to the very wire. In the second round there will be nothing but reason to beat us, so we may as well make it that far."

She thought of her words to Thorin. "I need to make it to top twenty." She wanted those bragging rights simply to not have embarrassed herself, even if she never intended to brag. "But I have been getting some sharp words this morning that make me think I'll have everyone against me. Are you up for that?"

"Yes." They both said bluntly.

"Then you have an ally." She decided.

They got to the fields, and only then did the brothers really give her a look over. "Where's you armour?" Fili asked.

Every dwarf furthering on was in armour. Even Porge, when Azel glimpsed her later that morning, encumbered with metal. Meanwhile, the honey brunette only wore the same as any other day, if a variation with a blue sash around her arm. Her trousers were a soft leather, but her boots and tunic were no different than any clothing she wandered around in. She wore a leather bodice over it studded with metal, but to dwarves that could be seen as nothing more than fashion.

She gestured to herself. "This is all I need."

"We should at least train a bit." Fili was suggesting, but Kili was instantly somewhere else.

Azel recognized the puppy look and how his eyes were looking far off. She turned around and saw Tauriel, the elf smiling slightly and looking down as she moved to sit somewhere. Rolling her eyes at the prince, Azel glanced to make sure that the king was nowhere near nor looking before she jogged of in the other direction.

As she approached Tauriel, Fili hit his brother. "She knows?" He gestured sharply to Azel.

"Well, um, sort of?" Kili cringed.

"Azel." Tauriel greeted the half-breed with a smile as she saw her. "You've made it so far. I must wish you the best of luck."

On occasion the past few days, usually between events, Azel had managed to share words with the elf, however few they may be. "Thank you, but I've come over for the dwarf. He went to mush and I know it'd just be a distraction if he spent all his time wondering what you two may say to each other." She confessed, fully believing it to be true.

"Is he not your competition?" Tauriel asked.

"Not until the Passage of Arms." She said, which was the unofficial name going around for the last event. "You must be proud he's come so far."

The elf almost seemed to blush. "I've no right to be proud. He was this capable when we met. But yes, I am somewhat proud." She answered. "You can tell him that, and that I wish him luck."

"Yes, I can do that." Azel committed it to memory.

"And one more thing, if it's not too much to ask." Tauriel spoke carefully, unsure. The dwarrowdam nodded, which prompted the elf to quickly lift slightly from her seat and press a chaste kiss to her cheek. "I am sorry if it embarrasses you, but I clearly cannot do it myself. I do love him, just… It cannot be just yet."

It would be embarrassing but Azel was going to remain understanding for about thirty seconds longer. She agreed and jogged back to the boys. As she had before, she glanced around hoping nobody was truly paying attention, then ever so quickly grabbed Kili's shoulder and kissed his cheek before he knew what was happening.

Azel moved away quickly. "I am never doing that again." She said to them both as they stared, Kili in shock and a bit pink. "She's obviously very happy and proud of you. She says good luck, and she loves you."

As the brunette prince beamed, Fili was grinning, almost smug. "You seem not at all pleased to have just kissed a prince."

She shrugged. "When they're both so troubling, why would I?" She joked.

They got no practice in as the horn was blown over the end of her words. The stragglers could be seen running to get to the fields before too much happened, contestants and viewers alike. Grouped together, Azel and the two brothers were given the third round by the gamekeeper.

As they waited, they learned of one other in their round.

"Figures you'd need two princes to protect you." Porge sneered in her rusting armour, looking nowhere near fair but acting higher-than-thou despite.

Azel didn't outwardly react. "At least they've taken my side by faith rather than me trying to bed the lot of dwarves, huh Porge?" She refuted, the dwarrowdam scowling. "You know, Miwren here's quite a bit from the boys just by working the armoury counter. As she hands them a sword, they don't watch their tongues."

"If your highnesses are wise, you'll step back. There's blood to be shed today."

"Keep running your mouth and the only blood I'll see shed is yours." Kili taunted with a shocking look. Dark, brow wrinkled, taking on the very sudden appearance of his uncle.

As if they switched roles, Fili was the lighter of the two as he asked, "Azel, would this Porridge woman happen to be fair game or would you like the honour of taking her down a well-deserved peg or two?"

"She's mine." Azel said, not breaking her green-eyed gaze from Porge.

"Then we will watch your back and get the others." He continued.

Porge huffed. "I had hoped that the heir to the throne would have more sense than to slum with this filth."

"You're foolish." Fili carried on. "You are not filthy because of where in society you are born, but what you do with your name. The lowest filth I've met would be amongst orcs and a Lake-Town Master, and I've seen all of them die, but you fairly resemble their personalities right now. Therefore I'd appreciate it deeply if you _walked away_."

There was alarm on her face and maybe a tear in her eye, but Porge's rage did not go away as she stomped off. Azel just smiled to herself.

"Burn my arm again, Fili, and even then I am not sure that I could ever be angry with you again." She said, looking to the prince. "And Kili's always been in my good graces, so no worries there."

"Does this mean you'll give us mercy in the Passage of Arms?" Kili asked almost hopefully.

"Oh, definitely not."

The blonde turned to her. "Can you even sword fight?"

She gawked. "Yes! Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

* * *

><p>If anyone had doubts, as <em>everyone<em> seemed to, nobody truly proved themselves more than Azel in the first fight. There were whispers all up and down both sides of the fields that she'd somehow gotten both princes to back her, and then when they fought it was in a formation, as if they'd done such before. Until Porge came forward with her burly body guard and Azel broke away from the brothers. The dwarf went for the boys while the two girls were suddenly walking to be face to face.

Porge was vicious and had knives as well as her axe, but there were no rules against it. It was only a mild surprise for Azel to see the axe and suddenly have a blade thrown at her face. She knocked it out of the way with her sword and forced Porge back by stepping a good length forward and swinging it with all her might at the old armour. A huge dent was made on the side where her blade purposefully struck.

They fought for but moments. Azel parried every swinging of the axe, moving quickly around the heavy woman who had to slowly turn to keep her in her sights. Then, Porge threw her second knife, which seemed to be all she was good for because her aim was strong. Only, it was for the kill, but Azel moved.

It did save her, but not her cheek as she felt the skin separate and blood pour. Then, when Porge swung her heavy axe again, Azel slid forward and dropped to her knees, swinging her sword above her head to make it collide with the handle. Only, it hadn't collided so much as gone through the wood and broken the improper metal holdings, leaving Porge holding the remnants of a handle. Taking advantage of her shock, Azel slammed up into the round woman and knocked her down while wrenching what was left of the handle from her hand.

As she held the sword's sharp blade to the fattening neck of the bearded dwarrowdam, Azel stood atop the woman and turned to chuck the handle at one of the dwarves that was attacking Fili and Kili. He turned sharply, likely thinking Azel was nearer by how he swung, but as he stumbled Fili found his opening and took him down.

Thus there were five, a horn blowing before another could fall, signalling that those standing would move on that after noon to the final round. Azel carelessly got off of Porge, maybe quite purposefully stepping on her hand as she walked to her temporary teammates.

"You're hurt." Kili said as they moved from the field.

She didn't so much as reach to wipe the blood from her face, still feeling like it was creeping down her neck. "I'm fine. Hey, Bilbo just won some coin." She recalled.

"You knew of the bet?" Fili asked.

"I know of quite a few, though I don't know all the details of most." She shook an ache out of her arm from the heavy sword, not used to it. "What's King Thorin's wager?"

"Uncle doesn't bet." Kili told her while gathering a cloth from someone on the sidelines. He handed it to her. "Not for anything, not even sport."

Her brows knit together. "What? The only reason I entered the games was because he said there was a bet."

"That he made?" Fili probed.

Thinking back on it, she stilled, taking the moment to wipe her face. "Well, he never said that he placed it but he made it sound like it was between himself and someone else. He told me it wasn't coin, either, so I'm at a loss."

"We've heard nothing of it, unfortunately." Kili admitted.

"Eh, I guess it matters not. Besides, we're enemies now." She reminded them.

They shared few words past that before parting. They went to practice while Azel sought the comfort of Cecla and Miwren. She told them about Porge pre-battle and what the princes had done for her while Miwren patched up her cheek. Then Cecla talked. Apparently when she was working with Bofur the day before after the games, he'd claimed that after Fili and Kili, he was rooting for Azel.

The final spar wasn't exactly a Passage of Arms. It was not one warrior picking out another and fighting in organized duels. It was all twenty-five sitting in a spread out ring. One would get up, another would challenge, and the fight commenced with volunteers until one stood. The thing was, in this sense all the dwarves were smart. The ones truly gunning for the title of grand champion would wait until few still stood or ambush on groups to end one before fighting each other. It did not have to be one on one, and this was where the most injury happened.

For a long minute after the horn was called, nobody lifted from the tall yellow/green grass, not wanting to risk being the first to fall. Then, Azel decided to stop proving her wits and go for brawn. She got to her feet and began to move to the middle of the ring. After all, at this point she was the only female left and they'd likely expect her to try and wait it out since once you stood, there was no sitting back down.

"Decided to just get it over with then, lass?" One of the warriors shouted in jest as she stopped in the middle.

"Yeah, care to show me what for?" She scoffed back, not knowing which one said it and therefore just challenging the troupe.

Sword still sheathed, she waited. Then, she heard the grass move. Behind her, someone gave a mighty yell. Azel turned when she felt the foot falls vibrate the earth near her, the dwarf swinging down a hammer at a full sprint. She dodged while grabbing the long shaft of the hammer, pulling as the dwarf began to tilt in stumble as he hit nothing. He fell to the ground while she simply swung and threw away the Warhammer, casting it far off past the ring of fighters.

"Sorry." Azel said, slightly honest, as she drew her sword and pressed it to his beard. Then, with the tip of the sword, she moved it to his arm and cut the blue sash away, ending his run in these games.

It spurred everything else. Two more dwarves came in time for her, both with favoured axes. They were harder to fight, Azel having to shift her sword one side to the next to block consecutive hits, but as she blocked the second she kicked out and swept the feet out of under the first dwarf. She kicked the axe away while swinging towards the second dwarf, knocking him away. She used the few seconds she had as he recovered to stop the first from scrambling towards his weapon and cutting his sash.

In a few short moves, she'd gotten the other as well.

There was little time to notice who she was fighting or how many after that. It seemed like nobody wanted to see her left standing in the games after the first three.

One dwarf she jumped on from behind, poising herself to stab him through the front while using a hand to take his tie. Another she'd attempted to cut the sash with a faraway clash but he turned and ended up with one inch less beard, for which she got him as he mourned it. At some point, a battle broke out as several came at once, not only to be against her but others. As were the games, really. It's how they were meant to be played.

There were a fearful ten minutes that she remained unarmed after a hammer wielding dwarf knocked her borrowed sword from her hands. She still fought by hitting and kicking, but mostly she ducked and tried to find her sword in the grass. At one point in the panic, she avoided a sword to her unprotected collarbone before ducking around the dwarf and getting him in a choke hold. She held him tight that way long enough to wrestle his hands off of hers and get his blue sash. It was right after that that she retrieved her blade.

The rest were taken out by others, but she could tell it was getting down to it when she was faced with Kili. The brothers had avoided her on the field for the moment, but then he came slashing at her. He was skilled with a sword despite her knowing he preferred the bow, and she had to block much more than usual. Her arms were aching and her feet were being sunk into the dirt as he swung down on her with enough strength to make them.

Then some other dwarf came up behind him with a smug look. "Kili, look out!" She shouted for him.

He turned, but the dwarf knocked him down, sword falling from his grip. The dwarf laughed joyously and swung down his axe into the grass right next to Kili's head. Azel charged forward, tackling the dwarf, but as they tumbled to the ground she saw the prince's blue sash in the man's fingers. She tore his off in an instant and shoved him away.

"Kili-" Azel started, turning to him.

"Just fight on." He told her with a smile, taking up her dropped sword and tossing it to her.

She did, but she was growing tired and aching. There were four more dwarves in play at the moment, one of which fell as she 'killed' another. The other two seemed to get a glint in their eyes and went for her at the same time. Darting to one side, Azel knocked them into each other and as the far one fell, she fought the other until her strength was waning and she just waited for the first opportunity to cut the sash from his arm rather than fight him for it. The remaining dwarf was as hard to get but quicker on his feet.

She was panting by the time she held that sash in her hand. Wounds she didn't consciously receive were beginning to sting and get to her. Her arm, a finger, her thigh, and of course the already wounded cheek had gotten an elbow along the way, probably opening again from the cold feel on her face. Azel looked around, to see who was left.

It was just those who sat out. Six dwarves had stood above the grass to watch the fight from their places around the makeshift ring, one of which was Fili. As the blonde prince stepped forward, her entire body sagged. She couldn't do it anymore. Even she had never thought to get this far. This, what, made her seventh? Seventh was noble, it was damned good, and she no longer gave a damn what the wager Thorin may or may not have been a part of was. All she knew was that she could give him that look that she was right, just once, and then sleep for a week.

But Fili didn't step forward to give her mercy. Azel had stood there with her arms drooping, sword practically in the dirt, but he didn't draw his dual swords or take her tie. Instead, he took his off, which didn't register with her until he tied it around her arm and strode away to be with his brother.

When she realized, she'd lifted her head and turned to look at him in utter confusion, but Fili didn't look back at her. There was such silence from the crowds it was almost as if they weren't there. Then she heard the grass shift, whipping around wondering if she needed to defend herself or if the dwarf would come take her ties peacefully.

Instead, the five remaining dwarves walked towards her, nearly forming a line. One by one they took the blue sashes from their arms and draped them over her hand, the one barely clutching the hilt of the sword. After each one, the dwarf would grab her and pull her to tap their forehead to hers. If she had the energy to cry, the sob forming in her throat may have made itself known.

Rather than that, she stood there dumb until a single voice called out. A voice belonging to the king himself.

"It is a great honour today, the last day of the first Gabilgathol since the Lonely Mountain was reclaimed from the dragon Smaug, to name our new grand champion, Lady Azel of Erebor!"

The cheers came not only from the spectators, but from the field. Under the dull roar, all she could hear was her own panting. It was of no surprise when her weight became too much and she fell to her knees before lying face up in the grass.

She still hadn't a clue what had happened.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Yes, sorry, I know this chapter is more filler and segueing into the real story than anything good. so sorry. Another chapter soon to come, though!

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><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

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><p>It took much to revive the champion, but the festivities carried on later that night with more noise than any other holiday, festival, or simple event any dwarf had attended in their lives. Azel was wrapped up, newly clothed, but limping and keeping hold on one of her friends as she entered the hall. Many a dwarf went up to her, whether to hug her, congratulate her, or shake her hand, though Thorin could see that even those who hugged her had never once met her or spoke to her.<p>

The king stood in front of the high table with his nephews, his sister, his advisor, the trainer of his guardsmen (Dwalin), and his friend Bilbo. Yet it was to Balin he referred. "Still wish to claim she's the lowest class citizen, old man?" He smirked.

"No, no, never again. I suppose you were right – you win the wager this time." Balin replied, watching Azel move through the thick crowds in wonder.

"What wager? I didn't know you made bets." Bilbo asked in surprise before anyone else could, though the shock was shared.

"Aye, he has this time." Dwalin growled out from the other end, not at all disappointed. Something still interested him about this dwarrowdam. "If the lass were to make the top ten warriors this day, she'd be on the council."

Dis and her sons looked to Thorin. "Truly? You've chosen the girl to join the council?"

"She's not unwise. She's a simple smelter, who works the furnaces more often than not, but she knows and thinks about the people who have done nothing but whisper of her, in hopes to help them benefit." He explained gently. "And she has guts. Tossed a chest of gold into my lap first we met. Do not tell her, however. It's not yet time."

Nobody said a word against it. Then Thorin turned suddenly, his tone strict and commanding.

"Fili." The elder brother stiffened, looking to his uncle. "You would have won out there today, yet your actions have led to this. Never before has a number of dwarves surrendered to select their grand champion."

He sounded angry, he looked unyielding, and he stood taller than he'd ever seemed before.

Fili stilled his nerve because he was sure of his actions. "It would not have been worth the title to fight on when she could not lift her sword to defend herself. She fought from the first to the last of us while I and others sat on the side." He spoke for himself. "If the others had not followed me, I would not have been able to consider them grand champion."

Thorin did not hesitate to say, "I am very proud of you. Those were the actions of a future king." He reached out to grip the shoulder of his nephew. "The people needed her to do well simply to trust her council, but you've done something for Azel personally. She's been only treated as a half-breed throughout her life, but you gave her a great honour."

"Thank you." Fili smiled.

Then the parade of people trying to get to Azel opened up and she finally broke away, Cecla helping her towards one of the feast tables. Before they could go anywhere, Fili and Kili broke away from the head table and went down to her, both extending their arms wide. Her eyes were alight with wonder and fright alike, but she let go of her support to accept their sudden embraces.

Pulling back from Kili, she hugged Fili second, then smacked his arm. "Why did you do that?" She nearly shouted at him. "You would have won! If I were in the crowd I'd have placed bets on you."

"If you were in the crowd, then I wouldn't have done a thing." Fili pointed out. "But I would not take this victory from you. You are the only person who deserved to win this year. Besides, you tried to save my brother."

"Don't be stupid. We all know it would have been you." She refused.

"Maybe in another ten years, when you can't show me up." He said with mirth in his eyes. "After all, how could I stand a chance after seeing you pull Bombur on a sled? I've travelled with him, I know how many dwarves it takes to pick him up."

She just bowed deeply, knowing there was no way to curtsy without her legs giving way under her. "It was a pleasure to fight with you, however brief."

"I'd wager you really need to sit down." He laughed as she straightened back up, her body swaying. Her friend came back to take her arm, gaze averted far away from looking near the princes.

Azel said her farewells before going to sit down. As soon as she did, all the people began to settle in for the feast.

* * *

><p>In all the celebration, the only place that Azel ironically found peace was the one place she was meant to go. Even three days after the fact, people were still partying, drinking, and <em>annoying<em> her, so she snuck down to the furnaces. Mostly because nobody was working with all else that was going on, and she'd hoped there'd be something to do, but there was no metal to melt or coals to shift. The furnaces were lit but left on their own for long enough that they began to grow cold.

When everyone snapped out of this stupor, it'd take her an entire day to make every single of them burn as hot as dragon fire again.

For now, she just sat in front of them, the hall behind her cold while the furnace was barely warm. Azel just enjoyed the mild peace of it, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

It was where she was found by a pair of guards a couple hours later. She was surprised there were even guards on duty with everything that seemed to be going on.

"The King, Thorin, would like to see you." One told her formally but in a gruff voice.

Not wanting to test it or ask whatever for, she got to her feet in a dash. Going up into the high class halls of Erebor, the ones built behind the face of the mountain with their windows and balconies, she wondered if they'd return to the study. Only, they turned the wrong way when that hall came about. They didn't give her one word about what was going on or where they were, just opening a door and nodding for her to go inside.

She stepped in, then stopped. Mingling in a fire lit room with a round table were some very notable people. Ones that didn't seem to fit with each other. Along with the king, there were members of his company: Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Bofur, Gloin, and, of course, Fili. Sans Kili, which made her wonder for a beat. Then, confusingly, were the others.

From high up on the guard was Ratog, second only to Dwalin, then Siric Silverbeard, an aged dwarf who made some of the best weapons before he chose to retire and require a replacement smith (Lornell). As well as them was Lady Figge who taught refinement to those who could pay her for such, having groomed the Lady Dis who in turn groomed rather well behaved and caring sons. She was speaking to Byrn, the overseer to many miners, and Lady Telska, _Cecla's mother_.

There were many others from many different classes and even more confusing standards, every facet of Erebor's society, counting up to fourteen, fifteen and then sixteen if Azel counted the king and herself. The king who, not long after she entered and the door was closed, stood in front of the largest chair at the table and spoke.

"Alright, new council members, have a seat and we will begin."

She felt like such an intruder as they whispered with joy over the council.

"Um, I'm sorry." Azel interrupted, not having moved from in front of the door. Heads turned to her. "I seem to be interrupting. I can come back later."

As her hand touched the handle to go, Thorin spoke above the chuckles. "You will go nowhere, Miss Azel." He told her. "You are right where you're meant to be."

She scoffed against her own will. "I-I'm not… I'm not a council member. I'm in fact the opposite of what a council member is. You've made a slight mistake."

"There's no mistake." Thorin said. "Have a seat."

Like a scared rabbit's, her heart was racing as she slipped forward. Everyone had taken seats, so the only open one was wedged between Fili's broad shoulders and Dwalin's even broader everything. From across the table, Telska gave her a tiny wave due to just decades of her being friends with her only daughter.

Turning towards Thorin, only Fili between them, Azel noticed how uncharacteristically stiff Fili was. He just stared at the table top, listening, which she soon realized she wasn't doing.

"–fact of the matter is, the king of Rohan has requested a treaty of sorts with Dain of the Iron Hills." He'd gotten straight to business and she worried that she missed something, proving to herself that she did not, in fact, belong here. "In trade for becoming allies, Rohan will supply Dain annually with three carts of leathers, textiles, and horse hair for their bows, amongst two carts of other supplies. If the Iron Hills supplies them with two carts of ore."

Thorin carried on in his deep burr, giving details on both the agreement and Rohan itself. Azel was damned thankful it were morning or she'd be lulled to sleep at his tone and disinteresting words. When he finished reading things off, he looked aound them.

"As allies with Dain, we have to find his agreement with Rohan satisfactory, lest we splinter all alliances in bickering with the other counterparts. How does everyone feel about Rohan's request of the Iron Hills?" Thorin asked them.

There were slight choruses of it being a bad idea, or they didn't know, or Dain would never so there was no use! Nothing constructive, informative, or prepared.

"Everyone disagrees?" Thorin seemed disappointed.

Azel looked around, noticing with ease that aside from Fili she was definitely the youngest in the room. Either way, she sat forward.

"Does Dain even want this agreement?" She asked.

"In what manner are you speaking?" The king asked her.

She flustered slightly, but talked on. "Two carts of iron ore would be worth a great deal, and while the trade sounds decent, what use do Ironfoot soldiers have for horse hair? They're all axes and shields, not bows – Mahal forbid they learn a little diversity." She held her hands up quickly in surrender. "No offense to those of you from the Iron Hills."

"We are not here to negotiate for Dain." Thorin told her.

"Okay, but it would be a great idea to have Rohan as an ally, even through Dain." She shrugged, sitting back and crossing her arms.

Fili looked at her, then finally sparked with some interest. "He could likely negotiate another cart with ease from Rohan if you could convince Dain that the horse hair would be of better use here. Our guards and some of our people use bows and the strings are often fraying."

"In exchange for what?" Thorin asked. "What do you expect us to give Rohan?"

"Nothing." He claimed. There was a whisper of doubt. "The deal could between yourself and Dain alone with ease. Two full carts of iron ore for some supplies he doesn't care for entirely but wishes for a treaty despite will ensure him the extra cart of supplies, and then the matter of horse hair is between just the pair of you."

Azel found it easy to agree. "Considering you're family, I doubt it'll be a stiff bargain."

The king turned to Balin as his head advisor. "Well, the lad and lass are not wrong."

"Does anybody have fair reason to disagree?" He turned to his council.

There were no true reasons, just a few who disliked the rohirrim in general. Thorin wrote something down while changing subjects. "As for the market opening soon, we will have bi-monthly open markets to any guests who wish to enter Erebor."

Azel startled and lifted her head. Had he sincerely just agreed to something she'd mentioned in a tired stupor? "What of the elves?" A dwarf bitterly asked.

"Them as well." Thorin claimed. "If they cause no harm and spend their money, then I see no reason to hold back our prejudices a few days a month. It will be no different than crossing their paths in Dale."

"But elves in Erebor?"

The king just gave Azel a look and gestured to the dwarf like it was her prearranged job to explain. She repeated what she could remember of telling Thorin. That the elves cared for gems and if they had a jeweller and reason for them to come, then they'd see all the different things the kingdom had and, thus, were spare customers for the merchants who needed to sell goods to make any money. Thorin claimed to have a jeweller.

Fili was quiet again, from then on out. So was Azel as Thorin and the others bickered about standard supplies, farming grounds, and so on, but she at least paid attention with some life on her face. It was eerie in a way to see him like this because even standing next to the throne of the stoic king for hours, Fili had some expression on his face.

When the rather impromptu council meeting ended, Azel shifted closer and put her hand on Fili's arm. "Are you okay?" She whispered as people began to leave the table.

"I'm fine." He answered stiffly.

She wanted to assume otherwise. "Is it the council?" She murmured. "Sort of too close to actually being the king."

There was a flicker in his eyes and he looked to her. "I'm not sure I can do this very well. _King_."

"Don't write yourself off just yet." Azel told him. "Everything take's time, and you're only in the middle of a long ride before it's you. It'll be just fine, don't you worry. You seemed to do just great to me."

He got up, so she followed suit. Fili put one arm around her in a sideways hug. "Thank you." He said, then let himself go from the table.

She was about to follow him out of the room when Thorin called, "Azel, a word."

Staying behind, she stood at the edge of the round table nervously. He didn't seem upset, though. "Council members have special homes in the upper halls. I spoke to the others before the meeting, but you were hard to locate. Some have decided to stay with their families, but a few have moved. There is a home for you and a guard can show you the way."

"I- This is a great honour but I don't think I should be a council member." Azel said.

"You seemed just fine with being one for the meeting." Thorin sat back in his chair, the room devoid of any other company. "I heard what you said to Fili just then as well. Can't care to take your own advice?"

"It's different being raised to one day be a king compared to being a lowly smelter and having everything suddenly thrown at you." She snapped without meaning to. "I mean, what about the Festival of Gabilgathol Azaghâl? Was I made to win that? Because it was you who told me I should enter, and I still don't know what the wager on me was!"

"Everything about Gabilgathol was honest." He told her curtly.

"Great, but why am I _here_?" She gestured around the room. "No half-breed fool has ever nor should ever be on the king's council. Most would say this is utterly insane."

He frowned. "I need not explain my reasons to you. And I'd greatly appreciate it if you accepted this position without slandering my sanity. I know exactly what I've done. You are the one who does not seem to see."

There was a part of her that was taken aback, and it surfaced in her silence. Azel bit her lip and gave a short nod. "You're right. I'm sorry, my King, you have your reasons."

"Thorin."

She blinked. "What, now?"

"You are a part of the council now, and my name is Thorin." He said.

Drawing in a breath, she knew it'd take a lifetime to get used to. "Of course…" She agreed without conviction.

"Before you go…" He squinted her way suspiciously. Azel felt a chill down her spine in fear that she had done something wrong and had just forgotten what that thing was. "There is nothing between yourself and either of my nephews, is there? I'm afraid I could not have that."

Her entire demeanour changed as she sputtered and then broke out in a giggle. "Oh, Mahal, no!" She scoffed. "I'm _decades_ older than either, and so beyond not interested. If we seem close, it's because of words shared during Gabilgathol. I'd raise up arms with them and nothing else."

His expression didn't change. "You don't look as old as you claim."

"Why, thank you, but I'm one hundred and thirty-three." She informed him. "But beardless, so, maybe that's that."

The look softened and Thorin turned back to his notes. "So, will you be taking the home?"

Gaining her pluck back, a joke popped out of her mouth. "If only because you flatter me."

He looked up in surprise, but she just held her smile as she let herself out.

The first thing that she did after finding her new home, fully furnished and with a fire just lit, was find her friends. She led them there blind and snuck them in like they weren't allowed there before breaking the news. It was an uncomfortable change in lifestyle, but their shocked reactions and cheering as they jumped on the furniture made it worth it.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** I actually love this chapter! Lots of Thorin/Azel, and some well-needed Fili.

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

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><p>Life changed too much for Azel. She was absolutely frantic for it. The new home was great, warmer, just as homey, but it was a confusing trek to work. Plus there was work. The dwarves who worked near the furnaces slowly heard word of her new position on the council, right on top of becoming grand champion, and they were asking what she was bothering with them for.<p>

In less nice words, of course.

As well as that, some of the men of the council were relentlessly asking why she'd not give up her low class work and live off their new earnings. She hadn't even known there'd be earnings, but more importantly she didn't care. She liked and needed her job, to give her something to do in the days because sitting around being spoiled was no life. Then there was Figge. She was sweet and didn't insist on Azel leaving her job, but she did frown and offer her a full set of refinery lessons.

Everything just formed together, dragging along all day long, and making her mentally ache. If this burden was palpable, she'd be weighed down and her shoulders useless jelly. Finally, within but a few weeks, she'd had enough. She stormed from the halls after Ratog had asked to borrow a silver coin. When she said she carried none, he had a fall on rant about how she should carry at least a hundred at all times and how he'd still had forty-two, but was one short to buy a new coat. A coat for forty-three silver pieces! That was insanity.

Entering the throne hall in a powerful storm, arms swinging, Azel practically jogged to the throne. Kili, Fili, and Dwalin were standing with Thorin, who'd seem to have either just arrived or was about to go, standing above his throne.

"Can I have a word with you, my King?" She snapped lightly, tromping up the stairs to the four.

"What is it?" He asked her with a look of concern.

Azel didn't know how to do this without whining, but she tried her very best. "Maybe, just possibly, can the other council members leave me alone? I'm getting frustrated with being told I shouldn't work, should carry around all my money at all times, and telling me to start my refinery lessons now so I might one day marry a man of noble blood."

If she weren't upset, it would have been the shock of her life to see Thorin crack an amused smile as the other three men gave hard laughs. But the king quickly composed himself. "I'm sorry, I cannot tell them all to ignore you in such a way. It is not my place to intervene on what sounds like truly personal affairs."

She bristled and very much felt like a porcupine, ready to impale the next nearest person. Muttering in dark, vulgar Khuzdul, she turned and stomped away.

"Maybe you should start those refinery lessons!" Kili called after her. "No man would marry you with that sharp tongue for fear of being cut!"

"Do not mock your secret keepers!" She called back.

From there, she went the one place that nobody could bother her. Far in the middle of the mountain, a little run down and colder than the rest of Erebor, she went to the old wooden door bolted together with metal plates.

Her old home didn't suddenly stop being her own home. It was still hers, still owned, for as long as nobody needed it and as long as her things were inside. These things were few an unimportant, but it was enough. Azel stoked a fire, grabbed a soft blanket, and curled on the carpet keeping her from being on cold stone.

For several long hours she lied there, only getting up once to see what she had to eat, which was a little dried meat that was fine enough for her in the moment. She was nearly willing to sleep there the entire night if she only had enough wood, but that wasn't the case. It could not have been even four in the afternoon when it was dying a hair too soon, by as little flames licked the last of the log, she still didn't go.

The most unexpected thing to happen to her happened then. There was a knock on the door. Azel only closed her eyes, thinking someone made a mistake or perhaps her dear friends had figured out where she may go. They'd let themselves in if that were the case.

And the door did open, but when she looked up briefly thinking she'd see Cecla and Miwren's happy faces, she instead found King Thorin himself.

She reacted no differently, looking back towards the fire and letting it seer into her blue irises. Heavy footsteps moved from the door to behind her, the floor giving a soft thud under her cheek. Then, the familiar puff of air from her old arm chair as he sat on the cushion.

Thorin hadn't a clue what possessed him to seek out the girl. Not long after she disappeared, he had thought that perhaps he should have gotten names to share a few whispers with the people who bothered her that it wasn't appropriate. Truly, while it was humorous from the outside, he could very well see where she was coming from in her frustration. It was there from the moment he first heard her speak the day she threw all those coins into his lap. She came from a simple life that she didn't believe needed improving.

That was, somehow, the way that he knew where to look for her. It was his first and only spot that he planned to search.

Despite his intent to share words, she spoke first.

The silence had been a little too much now that it was not a lonely quiet. "I will never not believe that you've made a mistake in having faith in me."

He thought back to her rage that first day, and before it. Seeing her throw the child without falter and let herself be swept off the cliffside to only save herself without a word or fear. "I made my first impressions about you long ago, and never had I thought that I'd learn you were insecure."

"My confidences mask my insecurities." She murmured. "You'd be none the wiser if you did not throw me into places where my brave face slips."

Thorin leaned his elbows onto his knees, looking down at her though her back was turned. Under the thin blanket, he could see the curves of her hips, at least having that before they connected with her thin waist.

"You're right." He said, grey eyes lingering on her. "I should know nothing of you. It was but chance that ever had me learning your name. That does not mean that this turn of events is the wrong one."

Azel held her hands together, picking at her own nails for a moment. She grew thoughtful and drew in a breath. "All my life I only wished for anonymity, for the whispers to stop. They may be different now, but they're still not wanted."

"Everybody talks and everybody whispers. It is your job to suck it up and ignore the sounds even as they become a dull roar, or you'll do nothing but sit alone like you are now." He spoke with a bit more roughness, not letting her grow any more sullen. "Get up off the floor and doing something about it."

She scoffed. "It's easy to say when you're king. Everything you say becomes law, and everything you say is for yourself. Of course you're above it."

"You think me selfish?" He bit. "My decisions are made for my people, for the benefit of all of Erebor."

"That wasn't my point, but you certainly proved yourself selfish without my help by assuming as much." Azel commented, sitting up slowly to turn and look at the king. He was sour with the realization of what he'd done just then. "I'm saying that it's different when you have a powerful privilege. Despite what has happened to me, winning some game or becoming a noble in the court by your choice, I do not have that privilege. If I try to do something about it, nothing will stop people from turning around and saying that I'm just the peasant taking advantage of a little of the king's generosity and I should remember my true place."

She shifted onto her knees, sitting back on her heels as she looked up at him. "The thing about it, though, is I will always remember this place because I do belong here and I never hated it. My words would be the same no matter what, suddenly noble or not, but because you _gave_ me a privilege, I in turn have none."

He calmed as he took in her words, but felt mild guilt. "I've put you in a position of power only to leave you needing protection."

"I can protect myself." She claimed regardless of all the she'd just said. "I just need time. Follow my own lesson, right? And maybe take a pride lesson from Bilbo Baggins. He was a wonderful fellow to chat with while he was here."

Thorin's mouth lifted into a gentle smile. "Yes, he tends to be."

Azel noticed this time and felt herself smiling. "I made my own impressions of you in your study, my Ki- Thorin." She corrected herself, her hands resting on her thighs, still sitting on her heels. "Stern face, surprisingly nice, if I recall correctly. Still true, but it was nice in this moment to see that face soften. You should smile more."

He did not outwardly react, but remembered the moment. "May I see your arm?" He asked while it was on his mind.

She lifted slightly as she rolled up her sleeve, baring her right arm to him. Like before, Thorin took it in both hands, holding her just around the scar, looking it over. Then, his right hand slid up to push away her falling sleeve, his fingers brushing over the smooth, old burn. A quick heat moved through her arm, then a shiver ran completely down her body.

A thick brow lifted as Thorin noticed. "Is it still sensitive?"

Her straight nose scrunched with some effort. "It's almost a numbness." She admitted. "But sometimes it feels like I'm on fire. It was just odd to have someone touch it."

Saying nothing of it, Thorin let go of her arm and stood up. "I will have Dwalin shout some fear into the council at the first meddling comment he should hear. Perhaps it'll be a lesson they hold on to."

Watching him, she stayed in her place on the ground. "Thank you." Azel made a small gesture towards him with her hand. "Not many people would attempt to find me. Now that I think about it, I'm not even entirely sure what you came here to talk to me about."

There was no admitting that his plan was to, ultimately, have the very conversation she started. "Just to tell you about Dwalin." He lied carefully. "But don't stay here too long. I'm not blind to the fact that you haven't any more wood for that fire, and it's going to get quite cold these upcoming weeks."

She gave a soft laugh. "Of course not, king Thorin! Your concern for your people is heart-warming."

Her over dramatic tone tuned him in to the act. "Careful, or I will have you praised in punishment." Thorin responded.

Azel's mouth had never so literally fallen open. "That was a joke!" He frowned at her outburst. "That was _good_! Oh, nobody would ever believe me!"

That gave him a chuckle. "Goodbye, Miss Azel." Thorin let himself out.

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><p>"It's so weird that people love you." Miwren cringed as away walked a group of dwarves who'd just stopped the three girls on their way to Dale.<p>

Azel laughed at how awful those words sounded against her character. Still, she understood. "Trust me, I know. It shall pass first mistake I make, and you know it." She said.

"Well, don't make that mistake." Cecla spoke firmly, arm looped in Azel's. "It may be a little disturbing now but it will lessen, and forward is always better than backward."

Both dwarrowdams looked at Cecla. "That sounded an awful lot like someone else. I would have thought you'd agree with Miwren." Azel brought up.

"Since leaving the kitchens, my company has been slightly more intellectual." She replied with an air of pride, but the pair of friends knew it was nothing to do with what she said so much as the underlying hint of who this person keeping her company was.

It was hard to see Bofur as incredibly intellectual person, but a wise one and a kind one would be a completely different image that was more fitting.

Miwren just waggled her brows at Azel, who could not hold back the laugh.

Cecla nudged her away, taking her arm back. "Honestly, you two. It's _nothing_."

"It's never nothing." They spoke in unison, mocking.

Not long after they arrived in Dale, Kili and Fili walked up the hill. Ever since Azel seemed to be getting to know the pair, her friends would pretend to swoon. They clearly knew nothing of what was going on, but they both suspected the lightfoot of liking one of the two. It was now like an alarm, their breathy '_ah_'s as the brothers came around the bend.

Azel rolled her eyes, looking over at them and giving a nod of acknowledgement. "Azel!" Kili jogged over ahead of his blonde brother. "Have you happened to see a certain someone?"

Tauriel, she could assume. "Not yet today. You'll scout them out." She said carefully, truly not having said a word to her friends or anyone.

Fili was shaking his head as Kili went off. The eldest lingered at their wall near the bakery, watching his brother a moment.

Next to Azel, Miwren and Cecla were nudging each other and giving looks while the one girl remained immune to the prince. "You don't often come to Dale, do you?" She asked.

He looked down at her before sitting. "No, not really at all. I actually came looking for you but I seem to forget that you're rarely seen alone these days."

"You can ask me away for a few minutes." She told him. "You came all this way."

"Go on." Miwren waved them off, catching Fili's eye for just about the first time.

The prince then asked, "Would you mind taking a walk with me?"

She got up and left her friends behind to follow Fili. It took a while before he said anything, glancing back as if nervous.

"As I hear it, you know a fair amount of people in the mountains who do not know you." He began. It sounded off and she almost questioned it before knowing it was true. She heard more than most because nobody held their tongue near her for the longest time. "I was hoping to ask if you knew of a woman."

A brow rose singularly, her gaze turning to the view. "Any woman? Depends what for. Or do you mean _a_ woman?" She wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't asking her to set him up with a courtship.

It turns out she wasn't far off. He did narrow it down, though. "A particular woman, from the Blue Mountains. Her name was Isolde, a mead and wine maker." And he _was_ nervous. "I haven't a clue if she remained there or came to Erebor, but I hoped beyond measure to find her."

"Did you… were you courting?" Azel wondered.

"No, far from it. I'd hardly say I even spoke to her. I laid eyes on her just before hearing of the quest to reclaim Erebor, and so I had done nothing. But then I never set eyes on her again and haven't the chance to change it."

It'd been just more than nine months since the mountain was reclaimed and her heart felt stretched with sympathy for him.

Azel wracked her mind for a long, hard moment. "I've heard of Isolde," from other dwarves ever so hoping to court her only to be refused, which would please Fili, "but have not met her or knowingly seen her here. Have you thought to ask Thorin to see if she has a home here?"

"I cannot ask him." Fili winced. "I do not know if Uncle wold approve and I rather get to know her, perhaps, before letting him in on my thoughts, for fear he'd stop me before I could know if she was for me or not. I rather miss her than unknowingly long for her."

She reached out and held his upper arm, looking into his eyes. "I will find out for you. It'd hardly be fair of me to play the raven between Tauriel and Kili to not find word of her."

In a flash he'd stepped forward and closed the space between them to her into a tight hug. "I will return every favour you do for me the very moment you have one to ask of me." He told her in her ear before pulling back. "You need not go to much trouble, but I am glad you would even try."

A wry smile came onto her face. "I'm afraid 'trouble' is the only way I know how to do anything." She said. "But the less you know, the better. We needn't anyone finding out who I'd do this for."

His expression turned to worry. "Azel, I would hope you sincerely wouldn't do anything dangerous or dumb."

"Of course not." She lied, and surely he saw as much on her face.

It was downright idiotic of her.

That didn't mean she'd let Fili talk her out of such things.

The plan was to strike around dinner, most of which Thorin spent in the great hall as a symbol to his people; also known as almost pretentiously eating seated away from them as only those who did not wish to cook or hadn't the coin at that time of the week to buy better food than the hall was making ate. Azel bypassed the meal all together and snuck with ease from her new home in the upper halls, through passages and across walkways, away from guards at posts she knew and just smiling if she could not avoid others.

Finally, she was outside the study. All bookkeeping would be found inside, copies written for the proper bookkeepers of the different branches of business. Azel hid around a corner, head poking out to see if there were guards.

Two, in fact, but facing away and looking at something on the ground, bickering. "That is a mouse if ever I saw one!"

"Nay, that is but a rat! Too fat for a mouse!"

"It just eats well! It's but a little mouse."

Azel had wished the king a better guard, but this worked in her favour. While they were snapping at each other, she took advantage of being a lightfoot to sneak behind their backs, letting her weight fall only into the soft places of her old shoes. Once inside the door, thankful it didn't creak or grind like most, she turned to the piles of papers and shelf of books with crossed fingers.

Instantly, she began to search. Careful to cause no harm, she shuffling papers and flipped open the books on the desk hoping to see names and home. If she found the census of where they all lived and there was no Isolde of matching age range, she knew the girl remained in the Blue Mountains.

After finding nothing on the top of the desk, she moved to the shelves only to kick over a pile of soft bounds books. Swearing to herself, she bent to pile them back up, then stilled.

"Did you hear something?" The voice of the first guard asked, still sounding a bit away from the door.

"Must have been the _rat_." The other grumbled.

Nothing followed, nobody entering, so she went back to stacking in a fluster. It was lucky she was looking at what she was doing, because then she saw the book. Pressed and slightly burned into its soft brown leather was 'Citizens of Erebor' in Khuzdul cirth.

Taking it, she stood and put it on the desk, flipping it open. Her lithe fingers searched the pages, flipping and looking for the right name, wondering why, beyond belief, they didn't _alphabetize_ the damned thing.

Suddenly, the door cracked and she whipped her head up. Thorin, standing tall, but looking away to tell his guards to stand at ease. She had a brief half second to decide if she wanted to hide. When the option was to get caught no matter what, she stood there and continued looking over the book as if she hadn't broken in, searching faster than before in fear of his anger. He could very well just turn back around and order the guards on her.

But when Thorin turned and looked up to see Azel standing behind his desk, he closed the door slowly. He could confront her himself, and in turn not give his guards the satisfaction of knowing or time to try to come up with an excuse for how this happened.

"What do you think you are doing?" His tone was quiet, but no less threatening.

Azel flipped the pages. "I'm seeing if one of my old friends lives here." She casually looked up and pointed behind him. "The door was unlocked. Seriously, you should get that fixed, anyone could walk in."

"No, just a lightfoot sneak thief." He snapped and strode forward. She was shocked and ill with fear when his hand planted just at the base of her throat and he pushed her back against the wall behind the desk. "_Tell me_ your true reasons for being in here? To alter the books? Find the key to the treasury? How'd you sneak pass the guards? Bribery? Tricks?"

Her hands clutched his wrist, her mind mildly prepared for him to change his mind about just restraining her and actually choke her. "I'm only looking for someone, I swear." She pleaded with her tone, looking up at his rage.

"You _lie_!" He snarled.

Then something became quickly apparent. This was not a normal reaction, not the rage of the king. These were not the light grey eyes that reminded her of soft rain, but a storm. And he'd jumped right to thievery. There had been whispers that the gold sickness had touched Thorin for a moment, though none believed it fully, but now Azel could see it even if it was just her posing a threat to coin that did not remain present.

Her fear fell away and she moved her hands to his broad shoulders.

"Hey, _hey_!" She shook him slightly, ignoring the pressure of his hand bruising her clavicle. "You know me. You gave me everything I have right now, Thorin. Stop and realize that my faith would never have me betray you, not for some coin."

Some light returned to his eyes and Azel let a sigh of relief leave her, bringing her hands up to his face.

"You are a true king, a kind one, so don't suddenly let yourself become misguided." She told him. "I've known you to be fair so at least listen to my crimes before you assume them of me."

Thorin had returned, but he did not let her go. He pulled himself from her hands and pressed his palm against her still, pushing her back to the wall. "You are not meant to be in here. You have five seconds to speak before I call the guards."

"The ones that were too busy with a mouse to see me slip by?" She sassed and knocked his arm away. Azel dodged him to grab the book she'd been looking through of the desk, flashing the cover towards him. "I was looking for a _friend_. I hadn't seen her in a couple years so I didn't know if she lived here or not."

He took the catalogue of his people and held it up. "This is not for your eyes."

"I'm aware. That's why I broke in instead of asking for your help." When she went to grab it back, Thorin let her. She found her page and resumed quickly.

"Nothing in this room is for your use. What else have you seen?" He ordered with at least more reason than before.

She waved a hand towards the desk. "Everything on your cluttered space. But I only glanced long enough to see if it was what I was looking for. I retained literally nothing."

Her instinctual honesty and lack in delay was all that made him trust her, even as she was breaking laws. "Never speak of this." Thorin demanded in a hush. "Any of it. Not you entering, not what for, not of me. I will let you look for your friend in return for silence."

With soft eyes, Azel looked away from the pages. "Obviously." She agreed. "I meant it when I said I'd not betray you. I'm an idiot and do some nonsensical, foolish things, but plotting? I'm a creature of impulse with at least some sense."

In silence, he tilted his chin in a nod that looked as though he appreciated it, then sat behind his desk while Azel moved to sit at the side of the room, still searching for that name. Eventually, she'd found all that she could and needed. Isolde did, in fact, live in Erebor.

As she put the journal of sorts on the desk, read to bolt, the king asked, "Did you find your friend?"

"More or less." She claimed, quickly assuming that if she outright said that yes, this person lived in Erebor, Thorin would wonder why she never hung around anyone new.

He said nothing else, so she fled back to her home to write down where the girl lived before she forgot.


End file.
